Let the Nord Blood Run Through Me
by Numbstrike
Summary: A Khajiit from Cyrodiil finds herself wanting to start a new life in Skyrim. If it came to it, she would merely join the Khajiit traders. But instead she discovers that she may want to become a Companion and lead a Nord's life...
1. Of Origin and Travel

**Chapters 1 and 2 are mostly summarizing, since they go over events of the beginning of the game, Skyrim. Starting at Chapter 3 is when it gets more interesting and I add more of my own twists.**

**Please read and review!**

Chapter 1 – Of Origin and Travel

_I've never thought that they would actually accept me into their ranks. But they did. I've proven myself, apparently, and only a couple seem to discriminate me. I want to show that I truly want to live a proud Nord's life. I want to show them how much it means to me._

_Ever feel the wind rip against your flesh as you sprint unrestraint through the night? Words cannot describe the freedom, the mentality. Even I barely remember my first experience for that it was unusual and unexpected, even to those who have seen generations of such occurrences._

xXxXxXx

I am J'vairi, a female Khajiit. Generally, my kind are traders. Both of my parents were, though after their prime years, they had actually settled into a home in Leyawiin, in the province of Cyrodiil. Both had died when Imperial guards barged into their house. I had already moved out at the age of 26 season-cycles. My father was apparently an assassin of the Dark Brotherhood but wasn't clean enough with his last kill, enabling the guards to track him down. He fought back when they attacked, betraying his mate rather than his guild. I heard that my mother didn't know he was a murderer, but the guards had taken care of her anyway.

I've always felt negative towards Imperials; they tended to raise their small noses snootily in the air whenever a Khajiit passed by. But this incident with my parents had deepened my disgust towards the Imperials. Yes, I _was_ startled and slightly troubled to learn that my father was a hired killer, but that didn't mean I had to seek the Brotherhood myself.

So instead I decided to leave Cyrodiil for the northern province of Skyrim to hopefully start an entirely new life. Though I've heard that absolutely no Khajiits lived in the Nord country, they often camped and traded on both the rural roads and outside the main cities. If all else fails, then I would most likely join these northern traders.

On the days-long journey to the border between Cyrodiil and Skyrim, I came across one too many traveling Imperial guards. They had sneered at me and, assuming Khajiits have a tendency to become outlaws (for example, the very common Khajiit highwaymen), called me "mangy house cat." One. Too. Many. Times. The last poor soul who did just that was walking on foot half a day's distance from the northernmost Cyrodiil city, Bruma. The past few weeks built up frustration within me and enabled me to launch myself at this guard. I had pressed my ears against my skull and swiped at his neck. Since my attack was unexpected, I was able to hook my claws underneath his breastplate and sink them into the base of his neck, dealing a fatal wound. I hadn't meant to go that far, but it's not like I regretted it. I took his silver longsword and the 74 gold he had been carrying. I left the heavy steel armor, favoring to be able to move easily rather than trapped underneath plates of forged metal.

And so was my first kill. Luckily, no one found out about it. Or, at least, it wasn't traced back to me.

Bruma was the last civilized stop before heading into the Jerall Mountains and into Skyrim. I had decided to stop a local mage and learn the Flame spelltone from him. Magicka arts didn't generally fascinate me, but destruction spells caught my attention. I also purchased light leather armor to wear beneath my midnight cloak while travelling.

After resting the night at the Jerall View Inn, I left Bruma to scale the Jerall Mountains. The temperature was well below what I was used to in Leyawiin, but I managed well, reaching the province border by early afternoon.

That's when Imperials gave me trouble yet again.

I had just entered Skyrim when Imperial guards ambushed, shackled, and tossed me onto a carriage with several other prisoners. The Imperials carried us to Helgen, where we were to be… executed. Now I don't know what the other prisoners did, but this was ridiculous.

"You picked the wrong time to cross the border," they said. Apparently the Imperials and their Empire were trying to hold claim of Skyrim over the native Nords. Oh, condemn me to Oblivion planes and Daedric realms for however I might've corrupted their plans!

Luckily they let me keep my armor and cloak on instead of redressing me into a filthy roughspin tunic, but they took the sword. I liked that silver sword.

And when they were taking roll of the prisoners, they asked me my name and had the nerve to address me "mangy house cat." I had the impulse to unsheathe the sword that was now missing from my waist. Accursed, Oblivion-sent Imperials.

I told them my name, and they studied me for a moment. From my silver moonlight eyes and tufted ears pierced with several silver loops, to my lightly spotted dark gray fur and deadly claws and pointed fangs.

The first prisoner was called forward. He laid his head upon the support, and the hooded executioner swiped it cleanly off. The thick scent of blood had filled my nostrils. I had turned away, disgusted. The guards and prisoners alike were temporarily distracted at a rumbling noise coming seemingly from the sky. Then they shrugged their curiosity off, and I was beckoned for my turn.

Thoughts of escape ran through my mind as the guards pushed me. Reluctantly, I kneeled before the bloody support and turned to face the sky when suddenly a dragon attacked Helgen.

Bless that blasted beast. It enabled me to quickly leave Helgen with the aid of a Nord rebel, Ralof. We ran through crumbling buildings and into tunnels, slaying Imperials on the way. I had acquired a couple blades from fallen foes after alighting with my flaming magicka. Ralof brought me to his sister's mill in Riverwood, not to far from the ruined Helgen. He and his sister gave me a map of Skyrim. Though I was a Khajiit, Ralof suggested for me to join the Stormcloaks, the true Nords of Skyrim rebelling against the Empire.

Though first, I was to speak about the attack on Helgen to the Jarl of Whiterun, the closest city. The trip on foot wasn't far from Riverwood, and only goats and elk accompanied me. As the sun was setting, I caught view of a walled city. I approached it and walked across the drawbridge. A little further sat the large gate that led into the city.

"Halt, by the Jarl's orders, no one is allowed into the city with a dragon flying around," a Nord guard standing to the side of the gate barked at me. I pushed back the hood of my cloak and replied, "I have official business to speak with the Jarl about. Concerning the attack on Helgen." The guard looked slightly curious as to why a Khajiit would be carrying the news, but I was permitted access into the city anyway. With a quick nod to the guard and a quiet inhale to myself, I opened the gate and proceeded forward.


	2. Dovahkiin

Chapter 2 - Dovahkiin

Whiterun was attractive. I wasn't as nice or large as Leyawiin or Cheydinhal in Cyrodiil, but it had a comfortable Nord-ish feel.

I found Dragonsreach, Whiterun's center, at the highest point in the Hold. Several cases of stairs lead up to it. Inside was warm, and the Jarl was seated at the back. I was questioned as to why I was in the building at all, but once the Jarl Balgruuf understood my message, I was welcomed - somewhat. The Jarl brought me to his mage, who wanted me to find something called a Dragonstone for him.

I don't understand why I was asked to do the task, but I went anyway, thinking it would be tree to befriend this city Hold. I went to the tomb-like area that was marked on my map and retrieved the stone - after fending off "numerous attacking skeletons and reanimated ancient Nord corpses called Draugr. Of course these had startled me, but I began to get the hang of using a blade more often.

My reward when I returned? A dragon attacking a watchtower outside of Whiterun. Jarl Balgruuf wanted me to follow his guards and aid in attacking the dragon... because apparently I had the most experience from surviving the attack on Helgen.

The most experience...

Yeah, he was crazy. I wasn't even the one to find means of escape in Helgen.

Nonetheless, I followed. I didn't fear death, and I felt a strange urge to help slay the threatening dragon.

The sky was thick with clouds when we approached the tower. All was silent. The guard commander's orders were to search for any survivors.

Well, I found one. And he said to turn around because it was still here. And so "it" descended upon us with a shower of flame.

I quickly darted away from the tower to pinpoint the location of the dragon. It was perched atop the tower, shouting and roaring, spiked jaws agape. Then it leapt off the tower and landed on the ground, crushing a Whiterun guard underneath bloody talons.

I ran towards it. Its back was to me, distracted by bathing the guards before it in inferno. With a yowl I jumped at its haunch and slashed, ripping off scales to get to the tender flesh underneath. It hissed menacingly at me and started turning around. A rain of arrows from the guards pierced its face and chest. I quickly sheathed my sword so both hands were free for my Flame spell. Soon the dragon crumbled to the ground with a frustrated roar.

I walked to the tip of its fallen snout. The guard commander suddenly called for everyone to step back, but I stayed at where I was. The dragon's skin and flesh began to flake off in burning bits and disintegrate into the air.

"Step back, I said!" the commander yelled nervously at me. I glanced at him, then looked back at the dragon and absorbed its soul.

That experience was the most exuberant I've felt. My body and soul felt enigmatic, otherworldly, and during the moment of actual absorbtion, I sensed pure euphoria.

"Khajiit!" someone shouted at me. I realized I had been standing in front of the dragon remains for a few minutes. A burly, young male Nord ran up to me. By his garb, I was able to tell that he wasn't a guard, though I knew he was fighting along side of them.

"Khajiit," he repeated as several guards were murmuring "Dragonborn" and "Dovahkiin." I looked at him.

"When you have the opportunity, I suggest for you to stop by Jorrvaskr and ask to speak with Kodlak Whitemane," he spoke to me in a low, rough voice.

"Jorrvaskr?" I repeated, pronouncing the "j" with a "y" sound like the man did. He nodded, and then left. A few other non-guard Nords followed him. One of the followers looked awfully similar to him.

"You are a Dragonborn!" a Whiterun guard exclaimed.

The commander spoke up. "Let us return to Dragonsreach," he said. He turned to me. "And you, report to the Jarl personally."

xXxXxXx

This was how I discovered I was a Dovahkiin, a Dragonborn. Jarl Balgruuf told me to make the pilgrimage to High Hrothgar, atop the Throat of the World, to learn from the Graybeards who were calling me.

The pilgrimage of 7000 Steps presented me with blood-crazed wolves and an ice troll. The wolves were easy to dispatch, but the troll took more effort. Good thing trolls are apparently weak to fire because I kept my distance and used all my magicka directing flame into its face.

When I reached the impressive building of High Hrothgar, the Graybeards greeted me and taught me several words in the dragon language and how to use my Thu'um. They said that as I absorb more dragon souls, I would get stronger and be able to use more Shouts.

What was my destiny, then, if I am the rare Dovahkiin? Surely I couldn't _pursue_ dragons; they seem to come on their own. So maybe if I were able to go my own way and help when trouble tumbles across my path…

Upon returning to Whiterun, Jarl Balgruuf welcomed me as Thane of the Hold, the highest rank possible to receive under his power. He presented me with my own housecarl, Lydia, who can aid me if I wish.

I couldn't tell if Lydia liked me or not. She politely obeyed whatever I asked of her, but never said anything more. Being around her made me feel uneasy.

Though one day, after finding a room to stay in at the local inn, I asked her about Jorrvaskr.

"Jorrvaskr? The Companions live there, a group of warriors – mostly Nords – who are available to help when they are called upon. Why?"

"I, um… Well after the dragon died, a dark-haired Nord ran up to me and told me to visit Jorrvaskr and speak with Kodlak Whitemane."

Lydia gave me a scrutinizing look. "Really? Hmm. That Nord might've been Farkas, and apparently he sees something in you. I wouldn't leave his request unintended."

I looked at her with my head slightly tilted. I think I knew where to begin a personal life in Skyrim.


	3. Jorrvaskr

Chapter 3 – Jorrvaskr

I approached the building of Jorrvaskr. It had its own secluded area in Whiterun and seemed to be the second largest building and property in the Hold, next to Dragonsreach. I opened one of the front doors and entered.

The first thing I saw was a large dining table stretched across the entrance hall and bordering a set bed of embers. There was one person seated at the table, picking at a sweetroll. I approached him slowly, and I know he noticed me. He was bald, but he did not appear that old. Maybe around mid-30s of season-cycles.

When he continued picking at the sweetroll and not acknowledging me, I spoke up. "Excuse me," I said, "but can you direct me to Kodlak Whitemane?"

He looked at me slowly. "Kodlak?" he repeated. "What business do you have with the harbinger?"

"I… A Nord – a Companion – had approached me after the dragon outside Whiterun was killed several days ago. He suggested for me to speak with your… harbinger."

"Aye, so you're the Dragonborn everyone has been mentioning?" He stood up from his seat.

"Yes," I confirmed. An awkward silence settled.

"Farkas!" he called out. The man who spoke to me outside of Whiterun came from the left side of the room.

"Skjor?" He glanced at the man I'd been talking with, then looked at me, and in recognition, smiled.

"Khajiit," he addressed lightly. "You've remembered my words. Come. Kodlak is sitting with my brother." He beckoned me to follow him. He brought me to a staircase on the left side of the room. At the bottom was a door, apparently to the sleeping quarters.

"So you're the Dovahkiin. A Khajiit, not a trader, randomly appearing in Skyrim." His voice growled. The growl seemed natural, and his tone was far from negative. "I wonder how that happened." We were walking down a long, carpeted hallway.

"I haven't a clue," I replied.

"Some say the birth of the Dovahkiin is randomized. I think I may believe that. Nonetheless, you haven't graced me with your name yet."

"J'vairi," I answered, skimming over the "j" and making it sound rougher with a Khajiit accent. The "ai" sounded like a long "aye," and the "i" at the end carried the long sound of the vowel.

We approached two men sitting together at a side table. One was past his prime years, his long hair gray and white, though muscles rippled beneath his armor. The second looked strikingly like Farkas. I assumed he was the brother Farkas mentioned. Both had warpaint shadowing their pale, silvery eyes, along with long dark hair. Both were of strong build too and had dark beard scruff.

"Who is this?" Farkas' brother looked at me with narrowed eyes, analyzing. I lied my ears back, feeling naked under his cold gaze.

"My harbinger," he said, ignoring his brother, "This is J'vairi the Khajiit and Dovahkiin." He nudged me forward and I greeted Kodlak. "I think she may have a Companion's heart," he said more quietly to the harbinger.

Kodlak nodded. "Aye, J'vairi. Farkas here believes you would like to join our ranks. Is this true?"

"Indeed," I replied quietly. I hadn't realized how much I wanted to join until now. I felt a sense of determination flutter through me.

"A Khajiit? Really, Farkas?" The brother stood up and stepped to Farkas' side, the one opposite of me.

Farkas crossed his arms. "Vilkas, don't be close-minded. You-"

"Hush," Kodlak interjected. "Vilkas, take J'vairi outside and test her strength. Then we shall see if she is of Companion material.

Vilkas opened his mouth as if to protest, then closed it.

"Good call, brother," Farkas murmured, smirking. Vilkas cuffed him on the temple and began walking away. "Come on already," he called at me.

I followed him back upstairs, and we exited through the doors opposite of the ones I had entered through previously. The area immediately outside the doors seemed to be a place for resting, with chairs and tables and food. Below this area was a clearing with practice dummies propped up along the wall of Whiterun. Vilkas stepped into this training area. He cracked his knuckles and pulled out a shield.

"Okay, now let's see what you're made of," he said, his voice rolling with a Nordish accent and pronouncing his "r"s thickly. Something about his voice sent shivers down my spine. "Come at me with anything but magicka – that's for weakling elves."

I was hesitant to attack him out of nowhere. I unsheathed my sword and held my left hand out. I swiped at him once with the blade, and he easily deflected it.

"Come on!" he growled. "Come at me with what you've got! Don't worry – I can defend myself," he added with a jeer. I bared my fangs slightly, then launched myself at him.

I kept my left hand held in a clawing position as I struck with my blade. At each deflection of metal on armor, I'd slashed with my claws. Soon I was using both attacks simultaneously, and Vilkas was animated, baring his teeth. His shoulder-length hair snagged in my claws, and I yanked some strands out. Suddenly he crouched, gave a huge heave of his shield, and knocked me to the ground.

I stared up at the sky, gasping for air. Soon he stood over me, smirking, icy eyes glinting but now with a hint of respect. He extended a hand towards me. I grabbed it, and he helped me up.

"Good job on passing your first test," he told me. I nodded thanks. "Now," he continued, "bring my sword to Eorlund for him to sharpen it. He's up at the Skyforge." He indicated a cliff to the side of the training ground. After unlatching a large blade from its sheath at his back and handing it to me, he walked off.

I sheathed my own one-handed blade and awkwardly held Vilkas' greatsword. It felt large and heavy in my hands; I never held a two-handed weapon before. Faint bloodstains left discolored spots on the gleaming metal. I held it forward, being careful not to drop it and slice myself.

I carried it up the slope to the Skyforge. Tending a wide bed of molten rock and flame was a gray-haired Nord. He noticed me and stood up from his work.

"Ah, you must be new here," he said. "And Vilkas already put you to carrying around his belongings." The last sentence was said good-naturedly.

"I am J'vairi," I told him. "I just finished proving to Vilkas that I can join the ranks among you all."

"You mean among the _Companions_. I am not a member but their blacksmith, Eorlund." He took Vilkas' sword from me and gave it a scrutinizing gaze.

"Yes, the Companions…"

Eorlund grunted and set Vilkas' weapon aside. He then picked up a shield and passed it to me. "Deliver this for Aela for me, please. Aela the Huntress. I've been meaning to deliver it, but I really need to spend time with my mourning wife."

I quickly agreed. Eorlund seemed fairly friendly, and in my opinion, his personality was a very likable one.

"Aela should be somewhere inside Jorrvaskr, probably in the living quarters," he advised me. I thanked him and left.

It took me some wrong turns into private rooms, but soon I found the tall female Nord talking with another Companion. She turned towards me with a questioning expression.

"I have your shield from Eorlund," I told her and gave it to her.

"Oh, thank you." She pressed a couple fingers to her lips. Her face was framed with reddish hair, and she wore streaks of warpaint on her face. "You're the new blood Kodlak and Farkas have mentioned, aren't you? Vilkas just told them that you passed." She paused and looked me over. "I wouldn't think you'd have it in you, but we'll see how long you can put up."

I thought about what to say in return, but she quickly streaked by me. "Come," she said. "I will show you were you can sleep." I followed her slim frame down the main hallway of the living quarters. She took the left into a room opposite of the door I took to enter the quarters. Further inside were eight beds.

"You can take any that's not owned," she told me. "And when you're ready, speak with Farkas about a task to complete before you're fully within our lower ranks. But for now, come join us for dinner."

I smiled lightly, and we both departed towards the dining table in the main hall. Farkas and Vilkas were already seated, along with a few others. Two were Nords and one was a Dunmer, a dark elf.

"Ah! The newbie!" the blonde-haired male Nord exclaimed as I sat down between Aela and Farkas.

"Torvar! That was my ear you were hollering in," complained a female Imperial beside him. Her appearance and posture was strong and Nord-like; I didn't think she would cause trouble like the previous Imperials in my life.

"Ria!" exclaimed Torvar. "Lighten up and have more Nord ale!" He laughed loudly.

The dark elf seated further away rubbed his temple with his fingertips, looking exhausted. Torvar noticed him and called out, "Athis, come on, buddy! I think you all need more ale!"

Farkas almost choked on a bite of salmon steak with a laugh. Vilkas looked amused but stayed silent. Beside me, Aela calmly told Torvar, "I think you need to cut back, shield-brother." Torvar looked like he wanted to say something, but at that moment, Kodlak walked in.

"Ah, my shield-brothers and –sisters, I see J'vairi has already began to settle in!" I shuffled slightly in my seat and gave Kodlak a grateful look. Torvar shouted phrases of welcoming to me and began singing boisterously. Suddenly I felt a cool gaze bearing into me. I turned to my left to see Vilkas staring at me.

"She hasn't completed a first task yet, though," he muttered.

Farkas glanced at me, then at his twin. "I will give one to her tomorrow morning. Lighten up, brother. So far she's shown great promise."

Kodlak listened to this exchange but didn't intervene. Instead he took a seat beside Athis and Ria. Three more Nords entered the room to eat with us. One I already met – Skjor. The other two I was introduced to – Vignar and Njada.

Dinner passed enjoyably. Though I haven't spoken much, I felt comfort at seeing the Companions. Their manner with each other reminded me of a large family. I smiled to myself.

That night I followed Ria and Njada to the side of the bedroom that we shared. I fell to sleep quickly, and my dreams reflected my excitement for tomorrow – for my first task and to hopefully become a Companion.


	4. The Task of Initiation

Chapter 4 – The Task of Initiation

The next morning I was awakened with a slap on the back. Startled, I woke, lying on my stomach, to see Torvar grinning down at me.

"Sleeping in? You can have your catnap after you do your first task." I scrambled out of the bed. "Farkas called for you, by the way," Torvar added. I thanked him and quickly washed my face before approaching the main hall.

Farkas greeted me. "Okay, eat something while I tell you what you need to do." I grabbed a chunk of bread and began ripping off little bits. "There is a group of bandits causing havoc on the large bridge over the main road northeast of here. You need to dispatch their leader. It probably couldn't be done without killing each of the bandits. Now, set off as soon as you're ready."

I grabbed my sword and a hunting bow and some iron arrows and left Jorrvaskr. I was heading towards Whiterun's gates when I remembered something I'd like to do beforehand.

I stopped by the inn. Lydia was in the entrance common room. She looked relieved at noticing me.

"Hi-" I began. She suddenly spoke.

"My Thane, I assume you've been successful?"

"Ah, aye. Though I still need to complete my first task…"

Lydia looked thoughtful. "My Thane, I want you to know that I've respected you since the killing of that dragon, but to hear that you're actually on the way to being accepted by the Companions deepens my respect."

I didn't know what to say. "Thank you, Lydia," I replied quietly, smiling. "Though I came to tell you that you don't have to say in this inn, and I don't think I'll be using your services."

"I understand," my housecarl replied. "I shall stay at Dragonsreach, and I will still be available at your call."

"Thank you," I said again. "Now, I think I shall be going… I hope to complete my task before evening."

"Shall I come to help?"

"No… It wouldn't be right for me to have aid on what is to determine my initiation." Lydia nodded, and I left.

I exited Whiterun and began my trek up the road, heading northeast. The sun shone brightly from my slight right.

At about noon, the bridge was in sight. It was large and dark and reached high across a gap between two slopes. Faint human forms were moving amongst the stone structure.

I dropped into a crouch and crept to a crumbling stone structure close to the bridge. My breath clouding, I silently slipped the bow from my back and nocked an arrow. I pulled the string back, patiently aimed at a stilled figure, and released. I hit my mark. The bandit crumpled to the ground. The others shouted at each other in alarm and pointed at the area I was hiding in. Heart pounding beneath my armor, I quickly slipped behind the structure. I put away my bow and unsheathed my sword.

I heard the crunching of snow beneath boots. One of the bandits ran towards my hiding place. At noticing me, he let out a battle cry and lurched forward.

I yowled in return and thrust my left hand in the bandit's face, fingers extended. My claws sank into the flesh of his face as I activated my flame spell. He screamed as the inferno created blistering welts and my claws sliced them open. I lifted my right arm and bashed the hilt of my sword against his temple. He slumped to the ground.

Another bandit leapt from behind me. Snarling, I swung my blade around with all of my strength and caught his throat. Hot blood spurted into my face as the limp body crashed into me. I shrugged it off, disgusted.

I darted from behind the structure and towards the bridge. I found a tower of stairs that would lead to the actual bridge part. Two bandits awaited me on the steps. I dispatched one with a fatal stab to the breast, and the other with my flames and blade simultaneously.

Panting, I sprinted up the stairs and down the bridge. Two more bandits greeted me. One aimed to directly attack me. I ducked and tripped her, making her tumble off the edge of the bridge. The next one was more cautious. We stared warily at each other for several moments. Then suddenly I growled and blasted flames from my palm. The bandit sliced through the torrent of fire with a two-handed greatsword. I met his blade with mine and was jarred by the impact. I slipped past him and clawed at his throat while battering his back. My blade struck home, sliding through his back.

I yanked the sword out and continued on my way. This end of the bridge had a tower like the first. I worked my way up, and there I found the leader of the bandits. He was ready for me, a sharp arrow positioned at my head. Before he could release, I swung my sword and snapped the bow in two. He pulled out his own blade and slashed like a moon-influenced maniac. I found an uncovered spot of his leather armor and dug my claws into the soft flesh underneath. He screamed as my claws sunk further and I twisted them. Blood welled up in his mouth. I smacked his head with my sword, finishing him.

Suddenly I felt a searing, pinpointed pain beneath my right shoulder blade. I dropped my sword in shock and turned to see a remaining bandit. He had slipped past my armor and now ripped his dagger from my back and braced to strike again. I snarled like an Oblivion-sent demon sent by Daedric lords and ripped out his throat with both of my hands.

I crouched to the floor, trying to catch my breath after the wave of adrenaline. My hands were splattered with blood, and the wound on behind my shoulder blade flared with pain. After a few moments I rose again, ignoring my wound. I searched through the bandits' bodies as I began to head back towards Whiterun. I collected coins and various food items or potions. I drank some minor health potions to ease the pain.

The journey back took much longer than the trip this morning. By the time I neared Whiterun's gates, the sky was darkening.

A male Khajiit ran up to me from a trader camp. His amber eyes glinted with concern.

"Sister, you're not a trader, are you? But nonetheless, I see you're hurt." Another male Khajiit joined the first, his expression curious. He glanced at her, then back at me. "We can tend to your shoulder," he said. I turned my head to look at my wound. My leather armor and the fur around that area as drenched in blood.

"Thank you," I replied, falling into the native Khajiit accent after hearing it again, "but my destination isn't far. I need only to get into Jorrvaskr... inside Whiterun..."

"I'll walk you to the gate, then," said the amber-eyed one.

At the gates, a guard called out to us. "Halt! No traders beyond the city's walls." My companion clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

"I'm your Thane," I huffed. "Let me iiiinnnnnn." The last word trailed off in a growl. I turned to the Khajiit and dismissed him, thanking him again.

"Oh, sorry, my Thane," the guard replied lamely. I clenched my fangs, walked past him, and entered the Hold's city. Soon I arrived at Jorrvaskr. Farkas was waiting for me, and at noticing my dark red shoulder, quickly slid an arm around my waist. With the offered support, I leaned my full weight against him. The pain of my wound came back, full-fledged.

"Ah!" Farkas said softly, "you should try real armor, lass."

"This _is _real armor," I laughed weakly. "Just not made of metal."

Farkas began leading me around Jorrvaskr, not inside it.

"Where are...? Shouldn't we dress my wound?" I protested.

"Wait," the Nord said. A cool breeze of dusk whispered over us.

"Ah, Oblivion," I cursed.

"What?"

"I forgot to grab my sword after dropping it."

"Oh. That'll be settled." He sounded amused.

"What do you...?" I trailed off as we approached the training area behind Jorrvaskr. The rest of the Companions were gathered, holding torches. The flames casted soft glows on their faces. Aela offered me a slight smile. Torvar stared at my shoulder. Vilkas stared at the arm Farkas supported me with.

Kodlak stepped forward from the group. Farkas released me and spoke with him. I gripped my shoulder blade.

"J'vairi," Kodlak addressed, "You have shone potential to join our ranks. Farkas, you will assess on her achievement."

"What...?" I began.

Kodlak continued. "Has she proved strength and determination to complete her given task?"

"She has," Farkas answered in his low voice.

"Has she displayed the characters of the heart of a Companion?"

"She has."

"Would you raise your sword in her name?"

"I would."

"Would you accept and defend her as a shield-sister?"

"I would."

Kodlak nodded, then turned to me, his eyes smiling. "J'vairi, you are now one of us. Companions, embrace your new shield-sister."

Several of the others began to step towards me and congratulate me. I stood there, feeling numb in the mind from excitement and achievement, and physically numb with pain.

"Wait." Farkas kept the others at bay. "She needs to be tended to. Aela, follow me. Come on." His last statement was addressed for me as he led me to inside Jorrvaskr. Aela followed.

"Bring her to your room and help her clean up," he suggested to the female Nord. "I'll see that warm water will be brought."

Aela's room was one of the private ones in the living quarters. She helped me carefully remove my armor and clean the wound. It was a couple inches deep, and every touch stung. She dressed it with a salve and wrapped it in linen. I let out a sigh of relief for this had immensely diminished the burning.

"Ah, thank you, Aela," I breathed.

"Not a problem... shield-sister." She smiled. "You earned my respect." I slipped on some dark blue sleeping garb she handed me.

There was a knock on the door, and Farkas entered. He seemed to have just bathed too; his dark long hair was damp, reaching past his thick shoulders.

"Feeling better?" he asked me. I nodded and sat on Aela's bed.

"You know... I have a question for you," I told him.

"Oh?" He raised a brow.

"I'll be right back," Aela told us. "I'm going to grab some food and drink." And with that she left the room.

Farkas watched her go, then turned to me. "So, what is this question?" He sat down beside me.

"How were you able to assess me? You weren't with me," I blurted out.

He flashed his teeth in a grin. "Oh, I was watching you."

"How?"

"Let's just say, I'm fairly good at disguising myself and changing my appearance."

Before I could reply, Aela returned with a plate of small pastries and a bottle of alto wine. Aela leaned away as Farkas stood up and went to grab a pastry. She set down the plate and bottle and wagged a finger at Farkas.

"These are for J'vairi and I. You can get your own food," she chastised him. With an expression of mock embarrassment, he left.

Aela chuckled to herself as she pulled out a couple of goblets and poured the wine. "I don't know what we're going to do with him," she said good-naturedly. "Or, what we would do without him." I pulled over a sidetable for her to set the food and drink on, and we began eating together.

"He seems strange," I said, picturing Farkas' pale eyes, "but I like his personality."

"We all do," Aela responded. "He and Vilkas have been born into the Companions. So of course they've been here the longest, since being little whelps."

"Vilkas..." I repeated in a murmur. I remembered his dark stare at seeing Farkas hold me by the waist.

"He's not as open as Farkas," Aela told me after taking a sip from her goblet. "Though he has a good heart all the same. You needn't worry. He'll warm up to you soon enough."

"Ah, that's good to hear." _Though I'm not sure how much I can believe that_, I thought to myself half-heartedly.

We finished the food, and I returned to my own bed. I rolled onto my left side, avoiding anything that might touch my right shoulder. Soon Ria and Njada came in, and I heard Torvar and Althis enter the opposite side of the room. I drifted to sleep to their murmuring voices.


	5. Honor

Chapter 5 – Honor

I woke by myself this time, fearing Torvar might thump my back again. I checked my wound, carefully unwrapping the linen. It seemed to have healed halfway already, and only hurt when I rolled my shoulder back far. I stared at it, amazed and wondering what Aela used. I wrapped it in new linen and put on some spare hide armor I found in a drawer. I also grabbed my dark cloak from Cyrodiil and draped it over my shoulders. As I entered the main hall of Jorrvaskr, Farkas stopped me.

"Go see Eorlund," he told me. His mouth split into a grin. "He'll have something for you. Then afterwards, speak with Skjor."

Outside was cloudy, and a snowstorm seemed to threaten the air. I pulled my cloak tightly around my body and stepped up to the Skyforge.

"Ah!" the elder Nord greeted me. "Congratulations on joining the Companions. Now, I have a gift for you… a Skyforge weapon. What would you like? Greatsword? One-handed longsword? Axe? Dagger?"

"A one-handed sword would be great," I answered, sincerely grateful and excited.

"Good choice, lass. Especially since I've been working on one recently. Come back in a few moments. I heard Skjor would like to speak with you anyway."

I found Skjor in the hallway of the living quarters, slapping on iron armor to his muscled arms.

"Aye, new whelp," he said. "I have a quest for you. Ever hear of Dustman's Cairn? It's an ancient barrow not too far from here. I want you to go there and retrieve a fragment of Wuuthrad, the original weapon wielded by Ysgramor." He strapped a breastplate to his torso. "Oh, and Farkas will be your shield-brother for this task. Go converse with him before setting off."

I nodded as Farkas entered Jorrvaskr. "Ah, there you are," he said. "I think Eorlund's ready. After you get your Skyforge weapon, we'll set off."

The sword Eorlund made me was beautiful: gleaming silver in color, hilt etched with Nordish designs, blade curving elegantly and deadly.

I strapped the Skyforge blade to its sheath at my hip and hopped down the stairs. Farkas was at the bottom, looking amused.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing." He shook his head, loose hair tumbling over his face. "It's just that you look awfully happy like a whelp with its first kill." He looked up at me, eyes smiling. I stuck my tongue out of him and whisked past him.

"Come on!" I said. "Or do you want it to be nightfall by the time we return?"

And so Farkas and I set off. Dustman's Cairn wasn't too far from Whiterun. My shoulder presented a dull pain but nothing large enough to hinder me. I glanced at Farkas as we ran, marvelling at how he could move so easily in heavy armor and having a large claymore strapped about his back.

Suddenly he slowed to a stop. I looked at him curiously then sniffed the air. A thick, musky scent bathed my senses. It smelled almost... familiar. Before I could tell Farkas, four wolves leapt at us from grooves in the rocky terrain. I quickly unsheathed my sword and stabbed one through the chest as it lunged to tackle me. Farkas had already dispatched of two, and I killed the last with a two-handed swing to the neck, loping off its head. Blood spurted all over the blade. I quickly sheathed it, and with a quick "Good job, shield sister," Farkas led rest of the way to the Cairn.

Nothing else attacked us on our way there. The entrance to Dustman's Cairn was sunken into the ground in a circle about 7 feet deep. I dropped down. Farkas landed more heavily beside me. Scattered before the door were a couple skeletons and the body of a bandit. We quietly proceeded inside.

As with retrieving the Dragonstone, numerous Draugr and animated skeletons met us when we travelled down the dark tunnels and corridors. With my nighteye, I was able to detect most of them before they noticed. This enabled us to swiftly slay them.

"How much further is the shard of Wuuthrad?" I whispered to Farkas after about an hour since entering the cairn. He pulled out a withered map.

"It shouldn't be much further…" he murmured. We came across a locked gate. "Look around and see if you can find a chain or lever to pull," the Nord instructed me. I nodded and went to an area that looked like a three-sided room, and instead of a door was an opening the size of that whole face. There were aged cabinets and desks along the far side. I stepped towards them as an echoing _shink_ noise sounded behind me. I whisked around to see the opening barred like the one we were trying to find the lever to. I laid my ears back and ran to the bars.

"Farkas!" I hissed. He came up to me and looked around the edges of the gate.

"There has to be a set of levers somewhere…" He ran his hands over a pair of bars. I began urgently exploring the rest of the room.

"I don't see any-" I started to say as a snide, audible voice spoke.

"Ah, a _Companion,_" the voice said. I approached the bars again and widened my eyes. Surrounding Farkas was around ten men and women – and all were wielding silver weapons. Farkas appeared calm and kept a ready stance, arms held out and fingers curled into claws. _Why isn't he gripping his sword?_ I thought frantically. The man who spoke opened his mouth again. He was slim-bodied and had a pinched face, as if he encountered something sour. The gateway that we had wanted to open _was_ now open; it must've been where these people ambushed from.

"It's sad, really, that the people of Skyrim rely on _your kind_ to assist in their times of need." The people began creeping towards Farkas. I reached my hands behind my back and cursed myself as I realized I forgot to grab a bow and some arrows.

Suddenly Farkas snarled – an air-renting, vicious and guttural sound. Involuntarily, I stepped back as his skin began to darken and his form stretch. His back jutted skyward in a violent hunch, and his arms grew lanky to the ground. Thick, hide-like fur sprouted all over his body, and his face lengthened into a wolfish muzzle equipped with deadly fangs. Leaning his head back, he roared this time, the noise shredding from his throat. He tackled the nearest man, plunged his lethal claws into the neck, and ripped out the first vertebrae of the spine through the front. He whipped the bloody bones at the next person. They struck her face with sickening noises. One obliterated her left eye, another crushed her nose, and the last embedded itself into the soft flesh of her cheek. She screamed and tried clawing the bones from her face. The beast-Farkas smacked the side of her head brutally, and she crumbled to the ground.

Another man had jumped onto Farkas' back from behind. Growling threateningly, he flung himself backwards onto the ground. The man was crushed beneath his body and against jagged stone. Farkas quickly leapt up and ripped off one of the crushed man's legs. With his teeth, he tore the flesh until the leg bones were mostly bare. He broke the largest so it bore a fatal point. He drove the weapon into the next male attacker. This man's silver blade nicked Farkas' arm in a dying jerk. Farkas howled as he plunged the leg bone until it came out of the man's back. He jumped up and grabbed the next person, breaking the spine and swinging the body to knock over the remaining people. He simply crushed and torn their defenseless throats until no one was left.

At this point I leaned back against one of the sidewalls, staring as the beast-Farkas loped through the open gateway. Suddenly the bars to my room sunk into the ground. I didn't move.

Farkas soon came to retrieve me, in his human form and with his armor on. His hands and mouth were stained red.

"Sorry if I scared you, lass." He grinned, but it turned weak at seeing my expression. The musky scent from the wolves earlier now pooled around Farkas' form. He walked up to me. "Let's go," he continued. "I'll explain to you later."

Cautiously, I stepped towards him. The scent was stronger than I thought. I wrinkled my nose.

"You smell awful."

Farkas looked startled for a moment, then released a bark of laughter. "You get used to it."

"Don't you mean _you_?"

Farkas just grinned. I walked past him, and before we left the room, I searched each of the bodies Farkas maimed for remaining gold coins. I gathered around sixty.

After scavenging, we then passed through the gateway that we intended to go through earlier. I saw a set of chain pulls, which must've dropped the bars.

We travelled deeper into the passage, I leading. At one point I heard a crash then Farkas swear softly. "Oh, by Talos... Be careful where you're going, lass," he then addressed me. "It's too dark."

I smiled to myself. "I have nighteye, _lad_."

Suddenly I felt a hand close around the end of my tail. Startled, I whipped my head around.

"Farkas!"

"Vai!" he yelled back, mocking. _Vai? A nickname?_

"Akatosh," I growled. "Grab a torch or something. I think there were a couple back around the gate area. I'll continue this way." I felt his hand leave my tail, and he set off quickly. Cold air met the area his skin touched. I suppressed a shudder and continued on my way.

Soon I came across a sharp turn that immediately led into a wide room - lit with torches. I almost laughed aloud. There I waited for Farkas to return.

When he came, he eyed up the torches on the wall with malice. I told him to get over it and to look at the map already.

"It should be the next large room… after that corridor." The Nord pointed to a tunnel opening from the far wall of the room. After several minutes and some Draugr and disgusting frostbite spiders, we did come to it. The shard of Wuuthrad sat upon a coffin at the end of the room. Past that was a large, smooth wall. I felt drawn to it and walked up several stairs to its level. As Farkas retrieved the piece of Wuuthrad, I placed my hand along the wall's dark surface. It was etched with odd runes. They looked familiar, like…

The runes began to glow and a soft wind emitted from its engravings. The wind got stronger, and many voices seemed to shout at me. I felt a sense of power, similar to that of absorbing the dragon's soul.

"_Yol_," I whispered after the wind and voices died away. Nothing happened. "_Yol!_" I now shouted, and a blast of fire wreathed from my body and buffeted against the wall.

"What in Oblivion are you doing?" I heard Farkas exclaim. "That's a dragon word wall!" I turned around to see him gazing at the wall, then turn to pick up the shard of the ancient axe. He began stepping towards me when a nearby tomb rattled open and a Draugr crawled out.

"Oh, please," Farkas muttered as he shoved the piece of Wuuthrad into his carrying pouch and yanked the large sword from his back. Several more Draugr came out. I pulled out my own blade and jumped down to Farkas. He was slaying them as more and more came. I faced a group of one and held a ready stance.

"_YOL!_" I shouted. The nearest three Draugr caught flame and cried out in ancient voices. I charged forward with my sword and fire spell and quickly dispatched them. I continued in a similar manner and soon they were all mutilated and lying on the ground.

"Want to search them for gold too, before we go?" Farkas asked me.

"Why not?" I was already at my work.

After collecting, we found a shortcut back to the entrance of the cairn. We quickly exited and began heading back to Jorrvaskr at a slower pace than which we came.

"Wuuthrad," Farkas said quietly. "A fragment of Ysgramor's own weapon…" As if involuntarily, he held his hand protectively over his travelling bag. Without growing up in the awe of the tales of the first Companion, I didn't feel as excited as Farkas. I did feel, though, a sense of power emitting from the shard of weapon. The following minutes we traveled in silence.

Then I asked, "So, who had attacked you? And how are you a… wolf?"

Farkas threw me a brief, amused look. "The Circle, the innermost and highest ranking in the Companions, is blessed with werewolf beast blood."

"And who were those people?"

My shield-brother bared his teeth at the air. "The Silver Hand. Werewolf hunters. How they were able to ambush us, I am not sure. Destroying them is one of the tasks in being a Companion."

I thought for a moment, then had the urge to ask, "Did you… _enjoy_ crushing and shredding them apart?"

"Of course!" Farkas growled with emphasis, grinning. "I can still taste-"

A bloodthirsty roar rent the still air, cutting him off. A heartbeat later, a gray dragon soared above Farkas and I.

"Do you have any arrows?" Farkas yelled at me as the dragon roared again. It began circling us. I shook my head no. "Damn." He gripped his claymore and sidled around the open ground.

I looked around frantically. The dragon was lowering itself. It spewed an icy torrent, and I felt myself weaken from not even the full blast of it. About a hundred yards away was a grove of trees leading up to the Throat of the World, the tallest mountain in Skyrim.

"Over there!" I snarled at Farkas, pointing towards the trees. I sprinted to their cover. The Nord arrived seconds later. As did the dragon. The ground shook violently from its landing, and it began crawling towards me. I unsheathed my sword and ducked behind a tree as the dragon released another torrent of ice. The trunk of the tree contained most of the blast.

I heard the dragon roar in pain, and I leapt from my tree cover towards the beast. Farkas had slashed at its side, and it was now turning to face him. I swiftly approached its now exposed side and sunk my blade into its flesh. It bellowed and tried to face me. Farkas struck the side of its throat. The dragon ignored Farkas and charged at me. At the last moment, I jumped up and landed roughly on its head. It tried shaking me off, jerking violently. I clung on with my free hand and drove my blade through its snout so the tip touched through to its tongue. It writhed several times then fell to the ground. I dropped from its skull and stood before it as its soul absorbed into me.

Farkas approached my side and began silently taking some of the dragon's bones. "You know," he said to me after a moment, "it looks pretty strange when you have all of that dragon stuff being absorbed into you."

I gave him an odd look, then laughed. "I'm sure."

It was late afternoon as we passed through the entrance to Whiterun. At entering Jorrvaskr, Torvar greeted us.

"That took you awhile," he exclaimed.

"Well, we encountered-" Farkas held out his fingers as if to count "-Draugr, Silver Hand members, frostbite spiders, more Draugr, oh, and a dragon."

Torvar's eyes widened. "Oh! Sounds like you two should head down to the meadery then for a drink."

"Torvar, we don't need to drink." Farkas then turned to me. "I'm going to pass the shard to Kodlak." He walked down to the living quarters. Torvar and I watched him go.

"Well then!" Torvar barked suddenly at me. "I can go to the meadery with you."

"Ah, aha, no thank you." I held up a hand. "I'm not fond of mead or ale."

"Yeah, those of your kind like skooma."

I jerked my attention to the side to see Athis the dark elf just closing the door to outside behind him. I felt the hair on the back of my neck rise slightly.

"_I_ do not like skooma. Truthfully, I can live without any drug like that or alcohol," I said in a low voice. In my peripheral vision, I saw Torvar back away. Athis now walked up to me.

"I beg to differ. All _Khajiit_-" he spat out the word "-like skooma. Too much for their own good, if they had any." I opened my mouth to say something back but he cut me off. He was pacing in front of me now. "I don't understand how Kodlak and Skjor let you in in the fist place. I didn't think even I was going to be admitted in, since I'm a Dunmer. But it seems like they're letting _anyone_ in these days – even _cats_."

Hatred and frustration boiled inside me. I shrugged off my sword sheath and travelling bag – basically any extra weight – and fully launched myself at him. I smacked him to the floor, and we rolled away from the dining table. I scrambled atop of him and pinned him down.

"You _idiot!_" I hissed, practically spitting in Athis' face. "What in _Oblivion_ have I done to you?"

"Why would you have to do anything? You're a _Khajiit!_" He jerked underneath my grip and managed to knock me to the side. I was now underneath him. He had slammed down my wounded shoulder, and I growled at the pain. He probably didn't even know it _was_ wounded.

"And you're a racist, ash-born, bastard Dunmer! Tell me that I haven't proven myself!" I wrapped my fingers around his wrists and drove my claws into his gray flesh until I felt bone. He yelled in pain.

"You. Will. Pay," he gasped and suddenly pulled out a dagger. Before I could move under his loosened grip, he pressed the blade to my neck.

"You're not a Companion," I growled slowly. "You've been here more than me, but I think I know more about what it means to be one." Athis bared his teeth and pressed the dagger harder to my throat. I felt blood seep into my fur.

"ATHIS! MOVE AWAY FROM HER. J'VAIRI, SAY NO MORE."

We both froze, and I turned my gaze to see Kodlak Whitemane stomping towards us. Athis' dagger was still at my neck.

"He said to move away, _Dunmer,_" I hissed at Athis.

"And he said for you to shut up, _Khajiit_," he retorted.

"Athis," Kodlak said in a commanding tone, "remove your blade and get off of her – now."

Half of the Companions had now gathered.

Athis reluctantly pulled the dagger away. He ran a hand down my throat, sending my nerves on edge, and got off of me. He went to stand beside the dining table. I scrambled to a crouching position on the floor and leaned against the nearest wall. I glanced at the gathered Companions. A stern gaze caught my attention. Vilkas' cold eyes were staring right at me. I couldn't tell what emotion they held – judging? Anger? Approval? I shifted my own gaze to the floor and rubbed my raw throat.

Kodlak looked around the group of Companions. "Was anyone here when they started?" The Companions looked at each other, then Torvar raised his hand slowly.

"How'd it start, Torvar?"

"Ah, um, Athis began insulting J'vairi… and she attacked him."

"So Athis dealt the first blow." The dark elf began to protest. Kodlak shot him a glare. "Athis, do you deny insulting and provoking J'vairi?"

"No, but-"

"Then you had dealt the first blow. Verbal attacks can be just as strong as physical."

Torvar whispered something to Kodlak. The Harbinger's eyes narrowed. "That's even worse, Athis. Farkas had just given me account of today's events along with a fragment of Wuuthrad, which J'vairi very much helped retrieve." The Dunmer flinched as the Harbinger abruptly held out his hand. "Your Skyforge weapon, Athis." When Athis didn't move, Kodlak repeated the command.

"It's underneath my bed…" the dark elf muttered.

"Then go retrieve it. It will be temporarily confiscated for you."

The gathered Companions began dispersing as Athis left with Kodlak at his heels. I felt a warm hand on my shoulder.

"Come on, lass," Farkas said. I let him pull me to a stand. "You did great standing up for yourself. And today you've definitely proven your honor as a Companion."

My head felt heavy after the adrenaline rush of fighting Athis. "Aye…" He led me over to he dining table to sit.

"Eat something first, then you can go clean up." Farkas slid into the chair beside me.

"Your brother gives me the strangest looks… I can't make out what he thinks of me." My ears twitched.

"Don't let it bother you," Farkas said tiredly. "Just take your time and eat. Who knows how long it'll take Athis to part with his blade."

I nodded and grabbed some seared slaughterfish. Once I began eating, I realized how ravenous I was.

The rest of the evening was uneventful; but once I lied down to rest for the night, I felt a sense of pure achievement. My dreams recurred the day's events and gave me pleasure at feeling the triumphs all over again.


	6. Icazstärn

**Author's Note: FINALLY ANOTHER CHAPTER UP! Thank you to whoever is keeping up with this story! Please leave reviews! Further encouragement will probably get me to write faster! :)**

Chapter 6 – Icazstärn

I cleaned up after waking the next morning. My shoulder wound was bruised, aggravated by Athis' force on it last evening. I went to find Aela for more of the solution to put on it. She was just coming from her own room. I asked her, and she quickly agreed, leading me back into her room. She redressed and rewrapped it. I rolled my shoulder back, feeling the relief.

"Despite yesterday, it's healing fairly fast," Aela commented.

"Ah, yes, thank Talos."

Aela smiled at me, then she said with a laugh, "Athis wasn't too happy about giving up his Skyforge weapon."

"Oh, but it's only temporary, Kodlak said."

"Of course. The fool just needs to toughen up. J'vairi, you should know that most of us are glad you knocked him down. His mockery was getting irritating."

I grit my fangs. "I still don't see what possessed him to speak like that," I muttered. Aela looked at me with thoughtful green eyes.

"Jealousy," she said simply. She sat down beside me. "Anyone can clearly see that you've proven yourself. Your next step is to actually become a member of the Circle."

Ah, the Circle. "Speaking of..." I began.

"Farkas has told me of what you've learned," Aela cut me off. She was staring at the wall. "It is true. We are werewolves... and the feeling the beast blood gives... is indescribable..."

"How many know of this power?"

"None outside the Companions - except the Silver Hand, of course - and few even outside of the Circle."

I was silent for a moment. "What... what if I were to receive the beast blood?" I was thinking about being practically half-feline as a Khajiit. But throwing in werewolfism?

Aela glance at me then answered, "I don't know... I'm sure it wouldn't be different from the rest of us though."

I nodded silently, knowing that she wasn't sure either.

We went upstairs to grab breakfast. Farkas was seated, his sleeve pulled back and his hand rubbing his arm with some sort of salve.

He noticed us looking at him. Aela was giving an inquiring gaze.

"One of the Silver Hand managed to nick me," Farkas answered. He ground his teeth as he pressed harder against the shallow wound. A metallic sheen spread several inches from the cut. "I hate silver," he muttered.

I placed my fingers against my silver earrings. Aela caught my action.

"Silver's only bad if it cuts by the skin and touches the inner flesh," she assured.

"But my rings pass through my skin…"

"Ah, I'm not sure then. It probably wouldn't be good."

"Why not just get Eorlund to craft some of Skyforge metals?" Farkas spoke without looking up from his arm.

"Maybe. Assuming that Eorlund has worked as a jeweler before," Aela answered.

"And this isn't even an issue yet, or at all, considering that J'vairi may not make it to the Circle."

I turned around to see the source of the new voice. Vilkas was working his way up the stairs from the living quarters.

"Kodlak says to speak with either me, Farkas, or Aela about further quests to complete," Vilkas said to me. He tossed me a small coin purse. "Here's your earn on what you did so far." And with that he walked out of Jorrvaskr.

I shrugged the coins from the purse into my own bag, my lips in a thin, dark line.

"He's just saying that for the heck of it," Farkas said, standing up and leaving after Vilkas.

"So." I faced Aela. "What'll be my next task then?"

"We'll go take down Silver Hand members. They have numerous forts scattered around, so dispatching them will take several trips. We can do the first today; we can leave after I come back." She headed towards the door as Athis, Torvar, and Ria came in from the living quarters. "Go do whatever in the meantime. Maybe train from one of the members It'll be around an hour."

_Okay, where were they all going today? Social time?_ I thought to myself as I watched her leave. Torvar began walking past me. Without thinking, I stopped him.

"Hey," I said. His light blue eyes lit up. "Um, can you train me?"

"In what, lass? I don't train." He shrugged his large shoulders, grinning. "The only one here right now that trains is Athis – and he probably would be the most useful, since he trains with one-handed weapons. That's all you use, right?" I nodded, but was wary at the thought of Athis training me.

Athis turned abruptly. "I can't train at the moment – you know, I don't have my _sword_." At the last word, he shot a glare at me.

Torvar's smile widened. "C'mon, buddy, I'm sure Kodlak will let you have it for an hour if you will train her during that time."

"I don't need…" I began saying weakly.

"Oh, you need a lot of help," Athis cut me off. His expression took one of a fake smile and malice underneath. "I'll go ask Kodlak right now. Go to the training courtyard."

_Eh, maybe this'll be good. I'll get to release more strength aimed towards him, _I said to myself as I opened the heavy door to outside. The air was crisp with the coming of a cold front. The sky was covered with dark clouds, comfortably hiding the sun. I walked down the steps and approached the clearing among the training dummies.

Not soon later, Athis came, holding his Skyforge sword. It was a one-handed longsword, like mine. The look on his face was bitter.

"You better get the most out of this, Khaj-" He corrected himself. "…J'vairi. Because Kodlak instructed me to give you _free_ training. Now step before me and wield your weapon," he instructed abruptly with a growl.

I unsheathed my sword and held it in my right hand. I bent my knees and stared into the Dunmer's narrowed red eyes.

"What else do you use when you fight?" he demanded.

"A flame spell and my claws. And occasionally a bow," I answered just as sternly.

"Claws, that's sick," Athis muttered. He then spoke louder. "Okay, how long have you been using a sword or any one-handed weapon?"

"Awhile, but then it was rarely. I started carrying one around all the time starting month or two ago."

"Huh." He didn't look amazed but quite the opposite. "Well, let's see what you have in you – and use _only_ your sword."

I didn't need for him to tell me to come at him. I jolted forward, driving my sword to his left flank. He parried the blow and leapt back.

"Fast, but predictable," he commented. This time I started at a slower pace. We circled each other warily. Athis began to look bored, then he suddenly jumped forward and swung his sword at me. I sidled away and whipped my own blade at his unexposed side. He had quickly turned around and deflected the blow. The defensive move was immediately followed by a whack to my left side. I hissed and backed off. We both stood several yards away from each other, glaring.

"One-handed battle is just as defensive as it is offensive," Athis told me. "And speed is vital to work in both ways. Like what just happened, one blow can follow right after the other, and another one added onto that, all arraying whether they're defensive or offensive. You must not expect one or the other, but both at all times. Got it?" I nodded. He dropped into a readied crouch, and I ascended.

Blood pounded through my ears as I swung my longsword at his legs. As he went to deflect it, I jerked it back and aimed a forward thrust at his chest. He barely stopped it from hitting his armor.

"Good," he said between gasps. Then he stabbed at my flank. I leapt to the side and rolled on the ground around him. I quickly arrived back at a stand, and in the process striking at the rear of his thighs. He yelped as my blade touched his skin and rapidly – without grace – counterattacked. I dodged, swiftly moving past his guard again, and whacked the flat of my sword against his chest. When he began to move, I shifted the blade to his neck. He glared at me and pushed it away with his palm.

"I admit you have skill. Just remember to use both defensive and offensive measures." Looking irritated, Athis sheathed his sword. "Now, if only you paid me…" He stalked off. I shook my head to myself as I watched him go.

I still had sometime before Aela returned.

I had pondered about it before and decided this would be the perfect opportunity to do so. I had heard about weapon and armor enchanting, and I wanted to see what Farengar, Whiterun's court mage, would have available.

I entered Dragonsreach, feeling slightly awkward knowing I'm its Thane and this being only the third time I've actually gone inside the building. Lydia was standing guard at the entrance and greeted me with faint surprise. I offered her a smile and walked into Farengar's room. The Jarl's throne was empty as I passed by.

Farengar's thin frame was hunched over his desk. He noticed me almost immediately.

"Ah, Thane the Dovahkiin," he greeted me in a quiet but gristly voice. "What is your business?"

"I'm interested in enchanting," I said, holding up my Skyforge blade, "this." The mage's half-hidden eyes glinted.

"A weapon crafted by Eorlund… Enchanting it would make it even more powerful, certainly." He paused. "Say… Since it will be your first enchanting–" I nodded in agreement "– I can show you how it's done with my own learned enchantments and soul gem for, let's say, 500 septims."

I knew good soul gems – filled with an appropriate-sized soul, of course – can get pricey. I also knew I wouldn't follow the path of magic beyond the simple destruction spells, and that I would not want to destroy any item of mine just to learn its magical properties. Doing the various tasks with the Companions earns me 200 gold coins apiece, and I figured that just paying Farengar would be worth it.

"Good, Dovahkiin," he said after I handed him a coin purse of the full payment. After putting it away, he clasped his hands together and walked over to an enchanting table. "Come over here." He placed his palms down on the glowing runes of the surface.

"Health damage, stamina damage, magicka damage – these are all potential enchantments for a blade," he said. He ordered me to grab a soul gem from its stand at his desk. I laid it on the table's surface. "And of course there is also fire, spark, and frost damage enchantments. Any spike your interest?"

I pondered for a moment. Stamina and magicka damage seemed like a waste of an enchantment or spell. Draining health always seemed amazingly dreadful, but it reminded me too much of vampires. Electricity sparks are too jumpy and it would be too easy to harm a companion. Fire damage I already used. I could spur a hellish inferno for my enemies, but...

I liked the idea of frost. A different kind of burn I can deal first with a strike of my sword, then quickly follow up with the opposite burning sensation.

"Frost?" Farengar repeated after I told him. "Decent choice. Hand me your blade and let me transform it into the Skyforge sword of the ice storm. Stand back and wait a few moments."

I did as he told me. He closed his eyes and aligned my blade and the soul gem with the runes as if by feel. He rearranged them after muttering something, and repeated the process a couple more times. Suddenly a blue light emitted blindingly from my sword. When the illumination died down, I saw that the soul gem had disappeared and my sword glinted with a pale blue sheen. The mage opened his eyes. He picked up the blade and handed it to me.

"Would you like to try it out?" I nodded vigorously. His small mouth curved in a smile, and he suddenly dropped to an attacking crouch and barked a spell. A conjured skeleton appeared before me. Without thinking, I whipped my sword at its ribcage. Ice spiked lethally at contact, and I felt a burst of frosty air recoiling from the skeleton and combing through my hair.

When the remains of the skeleton disappeared, I looked at Farengar. I couldn't help it; my face lifted in a smile. He subtly smiled back as I thanked him.

On the way back to Jorrvaskr, I held my newly enchanted sword before me and gave it a good study. I haven't had the purpose or urge to name any of my items before, but… I could feel this blade was extremely special. Crafted by Eorlund, a legendary smith, and enchanted by a Hold's wizard.

"You deadly, beautiful item," I murmured. "Bringer of ice storms… _Icaze_… _Stärn._"

At Jorrvaskr's door, Aela ran up to me. "There you are!" she exclaimed. She noticed my sword's glow. "Enchanted?"

"Yes, and I'm sure it will have great service to me._ Icazstärn_, Skyforge Harbinger of Ice Storms."

Aela laughed good-naturedly. "I can understand your thrill to the point of creating a proud title." Her green eyes met mine. "Now, though, you must come with me to slay some Silver Hand!"


	7. The Circle

Chapter 7 – The Circle

Now I have done small Companion tasks up to this point, but my heart jumped with eagerness as Aela and I – along with Skjor who was to assist us on this journey – sprinted across the fields, semi-frozen stalks of grass crumbling beneath our boots. We were going into the heart of a Silver Hand encampment to, well, eliminate them! Icazstärn seemed to hum in my grasp, itching to slice through thick tendrils of flesh as it wreathed burning ice around the body.

Before we left, I had quickly grabbed my bow and some steel arrows and strapped them onto my back, just in case. I remembered being stuck behind that gate, useless, as Farkas stood surrounded by bloodthirsty Silver Hand.

Then I remembered his transformation and complete annihilation of our enemies.

Nonetheless, I despised the thought of being useless.

"Almost there…" Aela murmured after about an hour of traveling. A couple more minutes brought a crumbling fort into view.

"Fort Fellhammer," Skjor growled. His small eyes were narrowed in hatred. He slowly slid his greatsword from his broad back and held it before him.

"Shh. J'vairi, see those Silver Hand?" I peered at an outcropping of the fort. Several forms paced the building. "As we get closer," she instructed me, "see if you can strike down at least one of them. When they notice, we rush in and destroy all." I nodded in agreement and we began a steady approach, using scarce trees and large boulders as cover.

I nocked an arrow in position and held the bow up as we walked. When I can see clearly enough – which was still at a fair distance; Khajiit vision was far better than any other race's – I released the charge. It embedded itself in the breast of a man. He choked, coughed up blood, and tumbled off the outcropping.

And all Oblivion broke loose.

I quickly fumbled with putting the bow back in its place and unsheathed Icazstärn. I kept my left hand free and bared my claws.

Skjor was ahead, slicing apart enemies. Foreign blood already splattered his bald skull as he drove through the growing mass of bodies.

Aela rushed to his aid, and they fought back to back. I ran after them, wielding Icazstärn. We began making our way to the fort's entrance.

Apparently word of our arrival hasn't reached inside yet. It didn't take us long to dispatch everyone who was outside. Skjor did the honor of smashing open the door. Honestly I thought the brutality of the action was unnecessarily. Oh well.

"I'm going to _change!_" Aela suddenly snarled. Just like Farkas, her form jerked and rough hairs shrouded her body. Her limbs and face lengthened, and lethal fangs spiked out from her gums. Her fur was a mottled red brown, versus Farkas' dark coat. Her green eyes glinted madly as she released a bloodthirsty howl and set off down the hallway. Skjor and I looked at each other. He gave me a quick shrug then bounded after Aela.

The first room was for eating. When Skjor and I arrived moments after Aela did, we saw her gorging on a Silver Hand. She suddenly jerked up, swiped a couple aside, and darted into another room.

I was preoccupied with fending off one man. He wielded two silver one-handed swords and was definitely skilled. I battered away his blows with Icazstärn, though one blade nearly sliced my hand. I parried to the side and quickly jumped in when I saw the opportunity to reach past his guard. I struck his side with my sword, feeling it slip through his internal organs. Like a disease, ice tendrils crawled over his flesh after the strike flashed white blue. I quickly kicked his swords from his slackening hands and swiped his face with flaming claws. He slumped in death - onto me.

I jerked Icazstärn from the body and, nearly panicking, shrugged the dead weight of the corpse off me.

In death my enemy's face looked innocent, purely common. I couldn't pull my eyes away.

_Who was he? _ I thought. _Did he have a family? What was my purpose in killing him?_

_Because his people kill my kind,_ another thought strictly interjected.

_My kind? Werewolves? But I am not one..._

_Soon you will be..._

I swiftly shook my head and got out of the mental trance to see Skjor run off further into the fort. He had finished off the rest of the Silver Hands abandoned in this room.

I wiped the blood of Icazstärn onto a dead man's robes, then got up and followed Skjor. All of the Silver Hand now knew of the intrusion; they were pouring into this next room, a large bare one with several prison cells.

Aela was vicious, not as gruesome as Farkas with ripping off limbs and bones to use them as weapons, but using more of her incisors and talons for shredding. This time Skjor and I stood back to back and battered away Silver Hands.

I had strayed from his side, intent on attacking two particular members. I dispatched them in a manner similar to the other man I killed, just in time to turn and witness Skjor knocking down an enemy as a glinting silver tip protruded from the Companion's stomach.

My vision seemed to blur as the silver blade was ripped out of Skjor's gut from the back. His face held an expression of astonishment, his jaws hanging open slightly. He coughed up a thick spray of blood, then his eyes suddenly flashed white as they rolled back. He slumped to the floor, and his dead face struck the hard surface.

Anger boiled inside me. The Silver Hand that had killed him now stood contently behind his body, shaking off his greatsword. I dully noted that somewhere in the background, Aela was still slaying more people. With a bloodcurdling yowl, I launched myself at Skjor's attacker. He dodged my first swordstrike, but I quickly backed it up with another. The flat of the blade knocked his jaw and he recoiled. I maneuvered the tip of Icazstärn to sink into his gut. He coughed once, then died.

At this point, Aela was gone further into the fort. Numbly I rose and followed the trail of carnage. As I was about to walk up a curving staircase, Aela came, in her human form, hopping down the steps.

"All are dispatched, including the leader," she said. I gave her a nod. She looked around. "Where's Skjor?"

"Dead." Aela's eyes hardened when I told her he was stabbed from the back.

"A shameful way to kill someone," she muttered. I led her to where Skjor's body was still lying.

xXxXxXx

We had carried him back to Jorrvaskr. The Whiterun guards gave us solemn nods as we walked through the gates. At Jorrvaskr's door Vilkas noticed us. His eyes widened at the sight of Skjor's body.

"Skjor, no…" he whispered. He then set off, calling for Kodlak. Aela and I brought Skjor to the courtyard behind the building. Not long later all of the Companions had gathered. Aela went up to the Harbinger to recount what had happened. I watched silently as Farkas and Vilkas brought Skjor's body up to the Skyforge where Eorlund had cleared off and placed a large stone slab within the molten part of the forge. I climbed up the stairs and perched on a short wall overlooking the courtyard. I faced the preparation of Skjor's body. I didn't notice Farkas beside me until he spoke.

"He's watching us from Sovngarde," the shield-brother spoke. "And he'll be happy to know his body will burn in the Skyforge, from whence his blade came and to where his ashes will forge new invaluable weapons for future Companions." He sighed. "Skjor was a member of the Companions since before Vilkas and I were born. He was one of our best shield-brothers and mentors." And with that Farkas stepped down from the Skyforge to speak with Aela down in the courtyard. I pulled out Icazstärn and began slowly cleaning the metal blade, thinking about how Skjor was the first Companion I've spoken to inside of Jorrvaskr. I also pondered about why I had that strange moment of guilt and wonder as I killed that one Silver Hand member. I've killed before, but I guess that was the only time so far that I've actually thought about the deed…

At twilight's coming we held the funeral. All of the Companions gathered around the hearth of the Skyforge. Eorlund stood beside it, holding a flaming torch. His long white mane reflected the firelight. Kodlak stepped in the center of all of us to speak.

"Skjor was an honorable Companion, and well-respected shield-brother of us all. He died at the sword of our enemies, the Silver Hand. He, Aela, and J'vairi successfully wiped out Fort Fellhammer, one of the main hearts of the Silver Hand. He has not died in vain, and Sovngarde welcomes him with open arms. May he forever hunt in its ethereal gardens." After speaking this, he allowed those who wished to put in a personal word to Skjor to step forward.

Aela approached the side of me and placed a hand on my shoulder. I offered her a weak smile and we focused back on the funeral. Eorlund now leaned over the edge of the hearth and lightly touched the torch to Skjor's body. He caught flame, but his expression was that of peace, eyes closed and hands folded across his breast. We all stood there until he turned from flesh to embers and ashes. Both Kodlak and Eorlund ceremoniously sprinkled the remains into the glowing hearth.

"May his ashes forge stronger weapons," Kodlak said as a last input. The Companions dispersed, some bowing towards the Skyforge before stepping down to Jorrvaskr. The full moon now hung brilliantly in the midnight sky, framed with thousands of glittering stars. I began to make my own way back to Jorrvaskr as Kodlak personally stopped me.

"J'vairi," he said, "stay for a little while longer." Confused, I obeyed and returned to my perch. The Harbinger also had Aela, Farkas, and Vilkas hold back. When even Eorlund retreated from the forge, Kodlak beckoned us to follow him. Carrying a torch, he led us down to the base of the Skyforge. There, he tapped the stone wall in a curved perimeter. The surface fell away and a doorway gaped open. We all walked inside.

A short pathway opened up into a small cavern. We were actually _beneath_ the Skyforge! As we formed a circle along the walls of the cavern, I studied the ceiling, imagining Skjor's embers humming inside the hearth.

I then focused my attention to the center of the room. There stood a pedestal on which a wide bowl was perched. I couldn't tell in the firelight, but it appeared as if the bowl was darkly stained. I looked across the room to see Kodlak staring at me.

"J'vairi, you have proven yourself to be a valuable shield-sister." In my peripheral vision I saw both Aela and Farkas nod in agreement. I might've actually seen a brisk one from Vilkas too. Could I…?

"Farkas has told me that you've seen his transformation and you know about the beast blood and the Circle. Aela says that she has changed before you too." I nodded in confirmation. "I believe you have the strength and honor," he continued, "to become a part of us, the highest ranking in the Companions, the Circle." My eyes widened at the confirmation to my thoughts. The Circle! I had first thought that becoming a Companion in Skyrim was such a feat for a Khajiit, but now I am to join its most honorable ranks?

"Farkas, please change if you will," Kodlak ordered. "Aela has already used her beast powers once today." Farkas set his mouth in a firm, concentrating line, and shifted into his werewolf form. Kodlak beckoned the wolf to the pedestal. There he handed his torch to Aela and pulled out a glimmering dagger with which sliced Farkas' forearm. He pulled the werewolf's arm over the bowl and let the blood pour into it.

"J'vairi, step forward." I did. "Do you wish to take the beast blood and join the innermost rankings of the Companions, the warriors of Skyrim?" I looked him straight in the eyes and gave him a very firm nod. "Very well. Place your hand in Farkas' blood and drink."

My hand entered the bowl to meet the fresh, hot blood. It seemed thicker than normal human blood and smelled stronger. I scooped up some in my right hand, raised it to my lips, and drank.

Suddenly my insides seemed to seize as I felt my body shifting. My vision blurred and darkened as I saw Aela and Vilkas quickly rush to my sides.

Bright moon. Sharpened senses. An elk. Now shattered. Thick scents wafting over me. Clear air. Bloodlust. Crying to the night. Thick arms pulling me down on either side. Darkness.

xXxXxXx

I awakened in my bed inside Jorrvaskr's living quarters. My head felt heavy and I ran a hand through my hair. What had happened? I remembered hunting Silver Hand, Skjor's death, the funeral, underneath Skyforge, then… Did I change?

I felt… different.

I groggily got up and walked over to a full body mirror on the wall at the end of the room. Raising my eyes to meet the glass I felt my heart seize.

Staring back at me was a Nord woman.


	8. The Blood of a Nord

Chapter 8 – The Blood of a Nord

I stared. She stared back. Her eyes were silver, bright along the pupil and dark gray around the edge. I raised a hand to touch the mirror. It was soft and bare, and the fingernails were still pointed. I studied the face again. Framing it was fair dark hair with scattered braids. I turned my head slightly to the side. The ears looked more Elvish than Nord, pointed but furless. I was dressed in my simple nightwear.

"Aela...?" I said quietly. I glanced around and realized I wasn't in my normal sleeping hallway. Instead it was one of the private rooms - unfamiliar, so not Aela's.

"Aela?" I repeated, feeling panic creep in. I rubbed my bare arms. I felt too... exposed. "Aela!"

The red-haired woman ran into the room. "Oh good, you're finally up!" She was staring, though I could tell she was trying not too.

"What happened to me?" I whispered, half to myself.

"I'm not sure..." Her gaze was settled on me, then her face flushed when she realized I had noticed her.

"I'm sorry, you're just-"

"Strange?" I interjected.

Her eyes widened in surprise and she shook her head. "No! I was going to say that you look really... beautiful."

Now it was my turn to be surprised. I looked in the mirror again and studied the full body. No tail anymore. A slim, sturdy Nordish woman with unusual but fascinating eyes, Elvish ears, and pointed nails. My nightshift, fitting against my skin, displayed the curves of my body. I bared my teeth to see them still pointed, but not as long and sharp as they used to be. I tilted my head to the right and started at the sight of my left ear. Around the lobe was bloody and torn.

At noticing my study, Aela commented, "Your silver earrings. They were badly hurting you, and you've torn them out yourself. Eorlund is crafting some for you out of the Skyforge metals, same silvery color."

"Oh..." I said, feeling the wounded flesh of my ear. "Aela..." I murmured after a pause, "what exactly happened?"

Aela offered me a light smile and beckoned me to sit down with her on the bed. "Your transformation itself was probably the worst since my own. For everyone, the first change into the beast form is the most difficult. You barely remember your own actions." I nodded in agreement. "You leapt out of the cavern and tried to head towards Whiterun's center when suddenly you halted and... changed… again."

I looked at her sharply. She continued. "Your beast form wasn't that of a wolf anymore. Instead it was more like a... cat. A large cat, somewhat like a sabre cat. Dark fur speckled with silver, wicked claws and fangs... Though your size was smaller than the average werewolf's."

I opened my mouth but closed it again. Aela glanced at me. "After changing for that second time, you scaled Whiterun's walls and left the town. Vilkas used his own beast form to chase after you. By the time he caught up with you, you had only slaughtered goats and elk. Vilkas had pinned you down, though, until the rest of us caught up. There we waited until you changed back. It was a couple hours later when the Nord woman was in your place.

"Talos, it's like nothing we've ever seen before. We were - and still are - startled. We carried you back after Vilkas returned to his human form." She fell silent.

She then stood up quickly. "Come on, let's get you dressed. Kodlak wishes to speak with you. I think... he has a theory of what exactly happened and why."

She helped me get cleaned up and dressed. My leather armor was ruined from my transformation. Instead, though, Aela held out a different piece of light armor. It was dark gray and made of some type of hide along with bits of crafted metal. Patterns made of extra hide and metal cut in elegant but dangerous, swirling decorated the armor. It looked... wonderful. I held my hands out as Aela handed it to me.

"Where'd it come from?" I asked, amazed.

"Don't know. No one does. Someone just left it on the doorstep with a piece of scrap parchment saying: "For the Khajiit-Nord."

I don't know why, but that sent a shiver down my spine. I ignored it and put the armor on.

It fit perfectly. I laughed quietly. "Now I just need new boots and gauntlets."

Aela led me out of the room. "Soon, but let's speak with Kodlak first."

The Harbinger was seated at his usual post outside his bedroom. The room I had slept in was fairly close to this area at the end of the main hallway in the loving quarters.

"Ah, J'vairi, please sit," Kodlak greeted me. Unlike Aela, his only studying was a short scan of my body.

"What do you think happened to me?" I blurted. The Harbinger gave me a stern look, then spoke.

"I believe you were born with your blood half-Khajiit, half-Nord," he said simply.

I blinked. "How? Both of my parents were Khajiits native to southern Cyrodill."

"What was your father's name?"

Why would he ask that? "Rahkei."

"As I've suspected." His eyes closed halfway. "Rahkei the Trader. He had made himself known in Skyrim, you know."

"What do you mean and how do you know of him? Also, he wasn't a trader."

"That's very true; he wasn't a trader. He just pretended he was one." At my lack of response, he continued. "Rahkei was known as a being, about some two decades back, who committed multiple... crimes... in our province of Skyrim." He took a breath. "One being taking a young Nord woman here in Whiterun."

"What? How-"

Kodlak held up a calloused hand. "Understand that this woman was willing. Also, this was when Khajiit restrictions were loosely enforced within holds. Rahkei was actually a frequent visitor to Whiterun, often stopping for a drink at The Bannered Mare. I was a new Companion at this time, not a whelp but still energized with new blood. I remember seeing him walking around with the woman, Hannah, an old smith's daughter. He flirted with other women before, often to the disgust of the Nord men, though they never attacked him.

"Well, Rahkei left a couple days later. A day or two after his departure, Hannah ran away from home. No one had seen her since she left, even after several seasons. The following year, when I was out on a task with some fellow shield-brothers to clear out some bandits, I noticed a Khajiit caravan heading towards Whiterun like usual. My path led through the woods. I went a distance ahead of my shield-brothers – and saw Rahkei crouching, slowly walking upwind of me. I followed him, suspicion creeping in. He crawled into a small cave, and I hesitated outside behind a rock outcropping. After about half an hour, I heard a feeble scream. More followed, and soon after Rahkei silently exited, cupping a bundle in the crook of his elbow."

Kodlak fell silent and looked straight through my eyes. "That bundle, most likely, was you. After that day, Rahkei did not return with the other Khajiit traders. I assume he returned to Cyrodiil and found the Khajiit you thought was your mother."

I stared at my hands, absently studying their smoothness. "I guess it does make sense," I said quietly after awhile. "He never spoke of his past – or, well, even the present, meaning his involvement in organized crime." I set my bottom jaw forward, thinking.

"Crossed races are rare," Kodlak continued. "And those between Nord or Elf or Brenton and Khajiit or Argonian are unpredictable. There are no known records of a half-Khajiit. Supposedly, the mother's traits are dominant."

"So in my case," I pondered, "the mother's side really is dominant. Just not… at first."

"Seems logical. Also, I believe that the shifting of blood had awakened your inner Nord blood. Since birth, seemingly, your Khajiit blood has stayed on the surface. Inside, though, you've always been a Nord. My theory is that the beast blood provoked somewhat of a cycle, pushing your Khajiit form into a secondary, inner beast-cat form and unveiling your Nord self."

"Though while still keeping some Khajiit traits," I added, holding up my fingers to show the clawed nails.

"Indeed." Kodlak grunted and stood up. "Now, that is all I have to say. This whole situation should not change any performance at all, now should it?" He walked past me, gripping my shoulder briefly. I stayed seated. _I guess I've always known I was not 100% Khajiit_…

I heard Farkas and Vilkas approach as they spoke a word of acknowledgment to Aela. I glanced up and met Farkas' wide eyes.

"Kodlak has a theory…" Aela explained to them. When she finished, I added with a mutter at the strange expression on Vilkas' face, "And that should not change anything." Vilkas' metallic eyes glinted, as if saying, _Oh, but it does_. I met his gaze firmly for several moments, then at Farkas' voice I turned away.

"My, lass, I knew you had it in you, literally," he added with a laugh. His eyes held a warm hue as they scanned me. Suddenly I felt a spasm of nervousness. I rubbed my arms, which only made the feeling worse at the reminder of my lack of fur. Farkas eyed my action and commented with a smile, "You'll get used to it."

I stood up and quickly walked past the twins. "I need to eat something," I said without looking at anyone. I almost tripped while sprinting up the stairs to the center of Jorrvaskr, not used to the lack of a tail. I cursed silently and found an end seat. I put a large sweetroll on my plate and began picking at it.

Torvar barged through the main doors from outside. He froze at noticing me, obvious confusion wracking his face. Farkas had come up from the living quarters and barked in laughter at Torvar's expression. The blonde Nord stared at Farkas, then back at me. Suddenly his eyes widened at recognition.

"H-how?" he asked, sitting down several spots away from me. Farkas shook his head firmly but good-naturedly. Good. No one else was going to know any details about my… transformation.

Farkas sat down to my right. "So," he said, taking off his gauntlets, "how are you feeling?" He paused, brushing back a strand of his hair. He seemingly just noticed my new armor "And where did that armor come from?"

"Fine. Numb. And-" I took a large bite of the pastry "-no one knows where the armor came from." I shrugged in it. "It's comfortable."

Farkas chuckled, "That's always a good thing, lass."

I laughed weakly in return. "Yes, it is." My stomach protested any more food. I held it, frowning. "What time is it?"

"Around noon, Morndas. Last night was long, and in addition you slept for awhile."

I yawned, still Khajiit-like. My tongue curled and I bared my fangs. When I was finished, I noticed Farkas grinning lopsidedly at me. I shot him a glare of _"What?"_

"That looked entirely ridiculous," he said.

Torvar belted out laughing, spewing some ale. I ignored him.

Athis sauntered through the main doors and began heading towards the living quarters. He paused halfway to the staircase, though, facing me. I hunched my shoulders in irritation.

"Who's the new Elf?" the Dunmer questioned.

I thumped my forehead against the wooden table surface as both Farkas and Torvar laughed until they started choking. I sighed deeply, then picked up my head, pushed my shoulders back, and faced Athis. He growled sharply at noticing my silver-gray eyes. He opened his mouth as if to ask how but thought better of it and continued on his way.

I pushed my chair back and got up. "I want to practice," I explained. "Move around. Wake up more."

Farkas stood up too. "Would you like to duel, then, lass?" His eyes slanted mischievously. "And tonight we can practice using our beast forms."


	9. Romping

Chapter 9 – Romping

I had told Farkas that I would like to go somewhere other than the training courtyard behind Jorrvaskr, somewhere more open. Since he knew the land better than I did, he led me to a clear expanse of land, northeast of Whiterun and just north of a river called the White River.

I brought Icazstärn, of course, its cool, dark leather-wrapped hilt comfortably fit into my right palm as I swung the icy blade at my shield-brother for the afternoon hours. I kept my left hand dormant, only lighting my flame spell in attempt to frighten him into thinking I might actually use it. It worked only the first few times, so I decided to toss Icazstärn from one hand to another. Might as well practice using both as blade arms. He managed his two-handed sword fairly quickly for such a heavy weapon.

I was faster, though.

Every time I managed to touch Icazstärn to any exposed skin, Farkas gasped at its freezing touch and his movements turned almost sluggish. I laughed at the one time I tapped his calf and he buckled to the ground. He returned the blow later on with a whack to my right forearm, making me drop Icazstärn and leaving a thick bruise.

The sun slowly dipped towards the western mountains as we parried each other. Just as the moons began rising, Farkas embraced a burst of energy and launched himself at me. I tried fending off his large blade but fell backwards. I quickly rolled back to a stand and in frustration shouted, "_Yol!_" He yelped as a wall of flame engulfed him briefly. I gripped Icazsärn in both of my hands and stood, panting, watching him.

Farkas hurriedly dropped his sword and patted at his dark hair, smothering any flame that might've caught. "Shouting is an unequal advantage!" he exclaimed. "Cheater." I breathed in laughter.

He began pulling off his armor, piece by piece. When he was nearly bare, he suddenly leapt forward, kicking off the last bit of clothing, his skin rippling into coarse fur. Soon I was smothered in wolf.

"Ah! Get off of me!" I shrieked. Icazstärn had been knocked away from my grasp. Farkas settled both clawed hands on my shoulders, pinning. Irritated, I let my flame spell creep into each of my fingertips and torched whatever flesh I could reach with my hands. I assumed it was his hips, as he snarled.

"How to I shift into my own form?" I screamed at him. Farkas merely breathed heavily into my face. I shot some more fire at his flesh. He pressed an arm against my throat and pressed closer to me, turning his head so one large eye stared into both of mine.

_Imagine it_, his voice echoed through my mind. _Imagine running free as your beast form. Search for a trace of beast within and grasp onto it. Summon it. Pull it to the surface_. _ And let it run free_.

I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate. I felt Farkas bearing down on me, both physically and mentally.

_But, of course, you need to remove your armor before you ruin it again._ I glared up at him but started shrugging off my armor. My bare skin rubbed against his thick fur.

I calmed my breathing and imaged what Aela told me about my form, about its sabre-cat like appearance, smaller than a werewolf, dark and silver-specked. A cat's yowl sounded deep within my mind. I focused on the sound as it gradually heightened. I felt a sudden, mental grasp that expanded its grip. It spread to my physical form, thickening muscle and lengthening limbs. Fangs grew slightly past my lip and ears perked upward. I felt my whole body expand underneath Farkas, giving enough leeway to nudge away from him. Once I was free, I bounded across the now starlit field, yowling.

_Wait for me, kitty!_ my shield-brother's voice growled excitedly through my head. I whipped around, stopping suddenly. Farkas hulking shape was loping towards me at a rapid pace. Too late to slow down, he tumbled into me. I grappled large paws around him as we rolled down a rocky hill. At the base, I was sitting atop of him. He glared up at me, panting.

_Strong form for one so small_, he commented. I narrowed my eyes and looked around at our positions. I was not that much smaller than Farkas. Slimmer and shorter, but not by much. I flicked the tip of my tail and hopped off of him.

_Wrong choice. _ His large body crashed over mine and we struck jagged rocks as we fell. I snarled and bit his neck, screaming the thought, _What did you do that for?_ Silent laughter answered my question. Then he growled and nipped my ear. I squirmed away from him and climbed back up the hill, running towards the cover of trees. I heard him following me, noisily crashing through the undergrowth. I leapt onto a tree trunk and scrambled to the top, the thinning trunk swaying beneath my weight. At around two giant-heights high, I settled on a sturdy branch.

Farkas pitifully howled, looking up at me. _Even in your beast form, you're a cheater,_ he taunted.

_If it's in my ability, I don't consider it cheating, _I countered. He simply sat down with hunched shoulders.

We both stayed like that for a while – him staring up at me, me looking off in the distance, to his annoyance. Then he decided to ram his body into the base of the tree. At the first shake, I nearly fell off in surprise. I gripped onto the branch and leapt into a nearby tree. Farkas slammed himself into that tree too. Aggravated, I slid down the tree and sailed through the air, landing squarely on his shoulders. He bucked and began running. I clung on, claws digging into his hide. As we exited the forested area, I felt his body spasm once, then stumble to a stop. He shifted back into a human, sinking under my weight. Confused, I stepped back. Soon after, I felt a throe myself and curled up, my body shifting back into my Nord form. I quickly rolled off of Farkas and stayed in a crouching position.

Farkas stood without shame and gazed at me. Feeling violated, I narrowed my eyes and swiftly outstretched my palm, leaking flame towards his face. He recoiled, then laughed. I rose to a stand, trying to shift again. I could not hear the beast within at all.

"Right now, you can only use the form once a day," Farkas' low voice sounded. Without taking a backwards glance, I sprinted several dozen wolf-lengths towards the area where I changed into my beast form. I grabbed my scattered armor and put it on, feeling Farkas' gaze the whole time. When I got most of it secured, I glanced back at the man. He was _not _looking at me, but rather sauntering towards his own armor. Great. Now I feel paranoid. I snatched up Icazstärn and put it in its sheath.

Not wanting to watch Farkas, I turned my gaze to the bright moons. I heard him walking towards me. He was trying to walk softly, but I easily heard his boots crunching the grass, which was beginning to stiffen with frost. Then it was too quiet. Just as I was going to turn around, I felt a thick arm wrap around my waist and lift me up. I cried out in protest as Farkas placed me over his shoulder and began walking towards Whiterun. Tired from the previous exercise, I quieted and didn't bother trying to escape. H'm. Might as well take advantage of the ride instead of walking. I shifted so I could hold onto his shoulders with my arms. His long dark hair brushed against my face, carrying a faint, musky scent. I closed my eyes and perched my chin on his armored shoulder.

"Well, that's a good sign," Farkas spoke, breaking the silence.

"What?" I murmured, eyes still closed.

"You haven't used your fire any more." He chuckled. "You must not mind this."

I opened my eyes slightly and yawned, tongue curling. "I don't mind not having to walk right now."

Farkas did not say anything else, but his body's expression seemed satisfied.

Soon we were at Whiterun's gates. Oh. Of course, guards are always stationed.

"What's wrong with the lass?" one inquired as we approached.

"Dreadfully ill," Farkas answered with mock solemnity.

I jerked up. "I am not ill!" Farkas tightened his grip around my upper legs so I would not fall away from him. With his other hand, he tapped his forehead.

"Ill," he repeated to the guards, quietly but loud enough for everyone to hear, "but in the mind."

"Bastard," I muttered, pushing my hands against his shoulders, trying to break free. The guard who spoke walked around Farkas, stopping behind him to get a good look at me. I sneered.

"Oh! You're the Dragonborn!" The guard's eyes widened. Farkas turned to face him. "Mentally ill? The Dragonborn? Are we condemned to a worse fate now?"

"By the Divines, shut up! I am not ill in the mind," I growled. I managed to rip myself away from Farkas, stumbling on the ground while trying to regain my stance.

Farkas stretched his arm out towards me. "See? She can't even stand up straight."

I did just as he said I couldn't. "I–" I began.

One of the other guards spoke in a grizzled voice. "She is not ill in the head," he said. "They've just obviously been… romping."

"Oh!" another exclaimed. "Oh! Oh, oh! In the woods?"

I swear that it felt as if daggers of fire launched from my eyes. I gripped Icazstärn's hilt, ready to advance. Farkas roughly wrapped both arms around me, confining, and began leading me to the gates. The guards stayed put as we entered Whiterun.

A couple civilians were travelling the night streets. Farkas loosened his hold and I bounded away from him. Upon entering Jorrvaskr, I stumbled into Vilkas. Farkas came in just as I spun away from Vilkas.

Vilkas glared at each of us in turn. "Where in Oblivion have you been? Kodlak wanted me to take with one of you with me to clear out a quickly growing group of bandits in the Reach. It will take several days and I want to start as soon as possible." His accent lilted higher than usual.

Farkas shoved me on the shoulder as he passed by behind me, making me stumble a step towards Vilkas. "Take the mentally ill one." Before I could reply, he strode down the stairs and into the living quarters. I set my jaw forward, irritated.

Vilkas looked at me expectantly with cool eyes. I shook my head. "I'll get him back later." I tried stifling an approaching yawn. Vilkas folded his arms.

"We were practicing," I explained. "Swords and beast forms."

"Mhmm. I was just about to leave to see if you two were nearby."

He was studying me. He actually began pacing around me, sizing me up. I felt my face grow hot.

"Did he touch you?" His voice was quiet.

"What? No." I wrapped my arms over my chest, eyes following his. "I mean, during combat we touched."

"You know what I mean."

I shook my head decisively.

"I see the look he's been giving you, even when you first… changed," Vilkas continued.

We had shuffled closer to a wall. Vilkas suddenly trapped me against it, a hand on either side of me flat against the wooden surface. Our foreheads were nearly touching. His breath wreathed around me.

"Don't let him take you," came the light growl. His eyes glinted fiercely, so close up. I pressed as close to the wall as I could. And then he was not there anymore. He was standing at the doors to outside.

"Oh, and just so you know–" his tone was not thick anymore "–the room you awakened in – it's yours now." With that, he left.

I stayed, back still pressing up against the wall. I felt my heart pounding.

"_Don't let him take you_._"_

Vilkas' voice echoed through my head.

"_Don't let him take you_._"_

The look Vilkas explained, the one that he said Farkas has been giving me… is it really there? Finding my nerves, I managed to move my legs and walk down to the living quarters. I assumed that Vilkas left me to catch up on some rest before we'd set out.

That room… my room… Which one was it?

Vilkas' fierce gaze flashed in my mind. Man. Ice. Wolf.

"_Don't let him take you_._"_

I shook my head. The room across Aela's hall, right? I took that short hallway to the right, which looked familiar, and opened the door to enter the bedroom. Rough hands grabbed my upper arms and spun me inside. Before I could call out, one of the hands covered my mouth.

"Lass, did Vilkas do something to you?" Farkas' voice whispered into my ear.

I bit his hand and he removed it. He shut the room's door. "Of course not," I answered, narrowing my eyes. "Why would he?"

He shrugged and stepped in front of me.

I stayed silent. Why did Vilkas leave that warning for me about his brother? Farkas was making me nervous now.

"You put up a good fight today, lass," he said, changing the topic. I looked up at him. His mouth was tipped in an odd smile. "Even though you _did_ cheat."

"Did not." I stepped back and sat down on the edge of the bed. My mind was elsewhere. Farkas seemed so obviously drawn to me now. I felt frustration creep in. _Since I've taken a Nord woman's skin_. He always did seem kind to me, though, but is that just for a newcomer's welcome?

Farkas sat beside me. "You seem tense." I didn't reply. He shuffled awkwardly. "You looked very… nice." He breathed the last word.

_And what are you referring to? After shifting back into human form?_ I shuddered.

"I prefer being covered in thick fur," I snapped. Farkas looked taken aback.

"You're just not quite used to it yet…" he said after awhile. "You've always had the Nord blood in you – that I was able to tell, even before your entrance into the circle and learning of Kodlak's theory." I bit my lip, silent. "You've always been a Nord. And I can see that the loss of your Khajiit body has made you feel insecure. But–" he put a hand under my chin and turned my head gently to look at him "–you can now live as a Nord without any discrimination. Except maybe being mistaken for an Elf," he joked.

I found my gaze settling on his lips. Not thin, not thick, but a good size, framed by dark scruff. When I met his eyes again, he was staring at me. "Plus," he continued, "you seem much more… approachable… in this form."

My eyes widened as he leaned in to kiss me. He was radiating warmth, and his scruff tickled my face. His lips were firm but gentle, and I found myself settling into the kiss.

Then the warmth was gone. Farkas gave my forehead a quick brush of the lips and walked to the door.

"My mentally ill one," he smirked, "get a good rest and don't take too long dispatching those bandits with Vilkas."


	10. Pierced

Chapter 10 – Pierced

Late the next morning found me grabbing a bite to eat before leaving with Vilkas. He was putting his gauntlets on.

"What will you be bringing?" he asked casually, tightening the straps around his right wrist.

"Icazstärn, of course." I paused. "I'll leave my bow here, though. I haven't practiced with it enough. Plus, I think that the blade and my fire and claws should be sufficient." I gave a little smirk.

"They'd better be more than sufficient, Vai."

I looked at him sharply at the use of the nickname.

"What?" he replied, shrugging. "It's what Farkas always calls you by. At least when he speaks of you."

"H'm. At least it's better than Ri."

Vilkas chuckled to himself. "RiRi."

I shot a glare at him. "No. Vai is fine."

"Plus a simpler name seems more Nord-like, especially than the Khajiiti 'J'vairi.'" Vilkas finished with adjusting his gauntlets and brushed back his shoulder-length hair.

I stayed silent. At heart, I think I liked the adaptation to physically being mostly Nord. And that the twins had given me a nickname.

"Oh, by the way," Vilkas continued, "Eorlund wants you to stop by the Skyforge before we go."

"Will do right now." I pushed back my chair and stood up. "Thanks."

"Mhmm."

Eorlund was holding a small, dark leather pouch when I approached him. He handed the bag to me. I opened it and dumped the contents into my open palm. Out spilled six small, silvery rings. I looked up at him, smiling, and gave him a quick hug of thanks.

"I'm glad you like them," he commented. I put the largest ring and a slightly smaller one through the holes from the previous rings in my left earlobe. "Some of the additional ones can be for your hair," he added. "If you want to keep somewhat of a Khajiit hairstyle."

"Oh, I'm sure people won't immediately think it's Khajiiti. It would look very nice though." I put the remaining four rings back in the pouch.

"A Nord's body fits you very nicely, J'vairi."

I dipped my head, knowing he wasn't commenting as Farkas did last night, but instead in more of a fatherly manner.

I began walked away, but stopped to say one more thing. "Icazstärn is brilliant. I couldn't have a blade I loved more."

Eorlund's mouth stretched in a wide, happy grin.

Back inside Jorrvaskr, Vilkas was waiting, holding out Icazstärn for me.

"Uh, thanks?" I gripped my sword's hilt and sheathed it. _Odd_. _He had to have gone into my room_.

He ignored my reaction and inquired, "What did Eorlund have for you?"

I turned my head to the side to reveal the earrings and also held out the small pouch.

"You even have more?"

"Yes. Smaller ones." I shook them out onto my palm. Vilkas studied them in approval.

"We can put in the others before we leave," he said, removing his gauntlets.

I watched his hands, thinking about the wasted effort of putting the gauntlets on. "In my hair?"

"Through your ears." He tilted my head so I was facing him straight on. "Your right, to make them even."

"I like them not being even," I argued.

"I don't."

_And what say have you? _Before I thought of what to actually speak aloud next, he spun me around and guided me down to the living quarters by the shoulders.

"You're really intent on this, aren't you?" I said as he led me into one of the larger rooms, apparently his. He sat me down on a chair and stood behind me. He brushed my hair back and studied my left ear.

"How'd you pierce these holes?"

"My mother did it so long ago. I don't remember how exactly." Vilkas moved his hands to the right side of my head, fingers leaving tingling ghost traces on my scalp. He removed one hand to grab something. With a slight tilt of my head, I saw that it was a sliver of a broken blade. I jerked away.

"You don't plan on puncturing my skin with that, do you?" I said, nervousness creeping in.

"Stop being skitterish and stay put." He hooked his left arm across my shoulders and neck base, pinning me to the back of the chair. I tilted my head back and looked up at him. He met my eyes for a moment. "You look pitiful."

"You're confining me so you can stab my ears."

"That's one way to put it. It'll be fine. I've done mine once before."

"Where?" I lifted an arm and brushed his hair aside, checking each ear. In his right, I saw one small puncture. "That's it?"

"Yes, but it's enough to know how to. Now I know a couple basic spells…" The arm around my neck base loosened, and he placed the blade sliver in his left hand. His right hand flashed pale blue and he touched his fingers to my right earlobe. It numbed with coldness.

"One right at the base?" he murmured. "And one of the tinny ones halfway down? That would look decent. And another one up the curve of your left ear."

I sighed. "Why not? Though Eorlund suggested putting some into my hair." I leaned my neck against the top of the back of the chair and tilted it to the side, exposing my right ear more.

"Through the ears looks better." Vilkas' rough hands moved gently, massaging my lobe with cold fingers. When the actual puncture came, I did not feel much more than a sharp prick. He rubbed the spot, wiping off any blood, and looped a ring through. The process of the next two smaller ones almost tickled.

When it was finished, I sat straight and looked into the mirror on the wall. H'm. Vilkas had a good eye for where to place the rings. I touched the red flesh around the new piercings.

"What about you?" I said, turning to him again. "I have one ring left. One of the larger ones. You should have it."

Vilkas rolled the last ring throughout his fingers. Then, without a word, he stepped up to the mirror and repeated the process on himself. His was faster, though, since there had been a hole there before. It glinted as he pulled back from the mirror, icy like his eyes.

"It's amazing that one specialized in forging deadly weapons can craft such small pieces," he mused. Then, as if snapping from a trance, he pulled me by the hands to a stand. "The heart of the Reach is several leagues away; we should get to the first bandit camp by sunset."

"I'd like to find some gauntlets and boots for myself first, though," I said. Vilkas looked around his room, then led me out.

"The traders should be just outside Whiterun. I heard that they came at the break of dawn. You can stop to see what they have when we pass by." I agreed and followed him out of Jorrvaskr.

My breath puffed before me as I tasted the crisp air. The sky was gray with thick clouds, looming threateningly. I gazed at them, fascinated by the beautiful dark colors and patterns.

"Stop dazing; you're acting as if you just consumed a vial of skooma in one toss." Vilkas' voice snapped me from my concentration. I bit back a remark and trotted after him, hand hovering over Icazstärn's hilt.

"So," I said to break the silence as we walked, "Where is Farkas?" The image of him last night flashed into my mind. I felt a clench at my insides when I remembered the kiss.

"Kodlak wanted him to help with some local tasks," Vilkas answered. "Personally, I find quests further away more enjoyable. Spend days at a time in a different environment than Whiterun." He paused. "You haven't explored much of Skyrim, have you?"

I shuffled my shoulders a little bit. "No. I've stayed in Whiterun practically the whole time since escaping Helgen."

"Good. This should be even a better experience for you, then."

We exited Whiterun's gates. I felt two of the posted guards following me with their eyes. Recalling the interaction with them last night made my body suddenly heat up. Thankfully soon we arrived at the Khajiit trader camp.

"Ah, welcome," one female said, sitting down on a mat and grinning up at me. I nodded in greeting and asked about her wares, specifically gauntlets and boots.

The Khajiit woman stood up and led me into the tent behind her. She pulled out several pairs of gauntlets and boots from here or there, muttering in a Khajitti tongue. Suddenly she paused.

"Would you happen to be J'vairi?" she said quietly, turning to face me. "The Dragonborn, the Khajiit-Nord?"

I nodded, not sure what to say.

"Good, good." The trader grabbed a bag from underneath a table and handed it to me.

"We were hired to give this to you whenever you stopped by." Her slitted pupils widened warmly.

"What if I had never stopped by?" I asked, confused, but grabbing ahold of the bag.

The Khajiit's eyes crinkled in a smile. "The gods have a way of making things happen, do they not?" Her smile widened. "My guess is that whatever is in that bag will match that rare armor you're wearing."

"No cost?"

"No, of course not, J'vairi."

I thanked her and exited the tent, meeting up with Vilkas. He looked quizzically at the bag. I opened it to reveal gauntlets, boots, a circlet, and a soft cloak to match my armor. I put them on gratefully and from the corner of my vision saw the Khajiit woman watching in approval.

"Who keeps on sending these?" Vilkas asked after I explained what the trader told me.

I shrugged. "None of my family that I know is alive..." I pondered.

"Well, it doesn't matter where it came from. As long as you're provided with an impressive set of armor, be satisfied."

I shrugged and we began our trek to the Reach.

The first league we traveled in silence under the cool midday sun of Sun's Dusk. We came across several wolves, though they did not attack us; but I received a growl or two. We stopped at a creek for a drink of water.

"How are you faring?" Vilkas asked.

"Completely fine." I rubbed my ears, feeling the small loops. "Though my ears are a little sore," I added to irk him.

He shrugged and touched the earring I gave him. I smiled to myself and looked at my rippling reflection in the water. I still wasn't used to seeing myself like this, but… I liked it. Vilkas was looking at me.

Then we heard a bear's bellow.

As one we readied our blades. The beast trudged noisily through the undergrowth. I figured that a cave was nearby and we had come too close to its territory. It halted when it came within several wolf-lengths of us, though, sniffing the air cautiously.

Vilkas glanced at me. "I don't think she likes the scent we carry," he breathed, grinning.

I had the urge to shift into my beast form, to feel my talons rip the bear's flesh, to feel my fangs sink into its rump… But there was not enough time to take off my armor, and I did not want to ruin it.

"Later, little whelp," Vilkas said quietly, noticing my expression. I set my jaw forward.

"Not a whelp anymore," I stated, then launched myself towards the bear. I extended my left hand as I ascended, discharging a wave of flame from my palm into the beast's face. It roared in anger, and I heard another distant roar echo it shortly later. I froze as a second bear romped from the same direction the first had come from. I quickly slashed Icazstärn at the first's muzzle and dodged out of the way of its swiping paws. I noticed that a third younger bear was tumbling towards the conflict too. Before thinking, I waved Vilkas out of the way and shouted "_Yol!_" Fire engulfed the bears and licked their pelts, clinging at spots when the bulk of it faded away.

Panting, I ran off to the side where I saw Vilkas. He was shedding his armor without haste, tossing it on the ground, and let the beast blood overtake him. He leapt onto the nearest bear, grasping his large, clawed hands around its neck and jerking it violently. The bear protested. Vilkas began gouging out its neck with both claws and teeth.

The younger bear cried out and charged towards Vilkas. I ran forward to meet the younger bear, swinging Icazstärn before me. Distracted, the younger bear followed me instead of running towards Vilkas. It leapt in my direction. I rolled to the side, dodging and holding Icazstärn before me. The bear crashed into the ground and scrambled back to a stand. This time it ran straight for me. At the last second, I held Icazstärn in both hands and pointed it straight at the bear. They met, and the tip of the blade sunk into the thin, soft part of the throat right beneath its chin. With the running force of the bear, it bore through until the tip scraped the bone of the inner of its spine. It gurgled and sunk to the ground. I yanked my sword out of the flesh and wiped the blood on the dead bear's pelt.

Vilkas had killed the bear he first attacked. Its throat was completely destroyed. He now mauled one of the remaining bear's front paws while somehow evading the other. He swiftly jumped back to watch the effect of mangling the paw. The bear limped and tried licking at the paw. Vilkas and I both took advantage of the distraction and attacked either rump. Soon the bear's pelt was hanging in gory strips. It shuddered once and tumbled to the ground. Without any heed, Vilkas began gorging himself on the beast's inner flesh.

I watched him. After several moments, he pulled his head away and stared directly at me, bits of flesh clinging to his muzzle. _Grab my equipment and hop on. Might as well take advantage of my form and travel fast._ I ran over to where he had shed his armor and gathered it into my arms. I strapped his large claymore hastily to his side when I noticed he came over with me. As I collected the last piece, one of his gauntlets, he nudged his head between my legs, making me tumble onto his back. I quickly straightened up and repositioned myself. I pressed my knees into his sides and leaned forward, pressing my chest against his back with his armor in between. I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck and he took off.

The wind whipped at us, though most was blocked for me as Vilkas' large head bobbed in front. He ran on and on, body shifting roughly but fluidly, the ground a blur beneath us. I laid my head against the nape of his neck, thick fur covering my face.

At that moment, I felt an immense wave of feeling wrack through me. Letting Vilkas do as he pleased, him seemingly to silently accept me more and more, and now feeling Vilkas' raw power. Now, I felt more drawn to Vilkas than I had whenever hanging out with Farkas. My thoughts were jumbled and confusing as I breathed in wolf-scent and my chest jolted with an odd feeling.

I left one solid, clear thought to myself.

_He did not pierce me through only the ears._


	11. Misstep

Chapter 11 – Misstep

When we approached the first encampment, the sun had settled behind the now closer western mountains – Vilkas said that they were the Druadach Mountains, behind the city of Markarth. It was an open camp, northeast of the visible village Karthwasten and on the eastern edge of a wide river – Karth River, apparently.

Vilkas' wolf form had faded about half an hour ago. He had held onto it longer by slaying wild deer and elk and the occasional human straggler – and no, it did not really disgust me. When I had felt the twitches of shifting, I leapt off of him, leaving his armor and sword and waiting for him to change.

We now crouched at a rocky outcropping, overhanging the camp. Several bandits walked across the camp, some even lying down on their bedrolls to sleep as the sky darkened further. Vilkas had to squint to pinpoint the moving forms; I still had my night-vision.

"I think I should set it on fire," I breathed, grinning.

Vilkas shrugged. "Why not? We'll have other camps to raid anyway. Do what you want, then we'll both launch ourselves in."

I nodded, and crawled closer to the camp as Vilkas held back. Clutching Icazstärn in my left hand, I held out my right. I managed to stay hidden about two wolf-lengths away from a tent. I sent a thin stream of flame from my fingertips to the faded hide – just enough to let the animal skin catch. I quickly scuttled to a nearby tent and did the same. Soon both flames flared out, hungrily licking the rest of the tents and furs.

I heard a bandit shout in alarm and was quickly followed by angry and frightened exclamations.

"Which one of you bastards left a lantern lying open again?" a voice – a throaty male one of an orc – barked.

I glanced at Vilkas, my eyes smiling. _ Ready?_

_Ready._

We launched from our hiding places and temporarily through the inferno. That was for dramatic effect, really. And it worked.

One bandit began screaming nonsense. "Mehrunes Dagon! Puppets of Mehrunes! Destruction. Energy. In its purest form!" He shrieked as he stumbled onto his rear, looking up at us and the flames, nerve-wracked.

"Yes," I said in a guttural voice, "Dagon has sent us to cleanse this land in fire." I twisted Icazstärn in my wrist and drove the blade into the man's gut. Ice crystals clung around his red flesh where the steel touched.

"You little harbinger of destruction," Vilkas chuckled as we hopped away from the spreading inferno and hacked at the remaining bandits. I found the orc who had spoken earlier. I swiftly danced around him until he became dizzy at trying to hit me with his weapon. As I went to give him a firm kick in the stomach, he grabbed my boot. I gasped in surprise and twisted my other leg – my right – in order not to fall. The orc grunted and grinned down at me. I swung Icazsärn toward him but couldn't manage to touch the blade to his flesh. I growled my sword's name and gave it a mighty swipe; icy tendrils and thin, whipping currents lashed from the metal and with the movement of the strike. The orc growled as the cold cut into his skin, but he stayed put. He smiled darkly as he jerked my ankle ninety degrees. I shrieked in pain, and he twisted it further.

"Vilkas!" I cried, dropping Icazstärn and reaching for my captive foot. "Vil-kas!"

My standing leg gave out beneath me and I swung to the ground. I hunched my shoulder to avoid smacking my head. My shoulder jarred from the impact. Without using it for standing anymore, I kicked out my other leg at the orc's thighs, trying to nail his crotch. Seeing my intent, he crouched down and sat on my leg. I heard my leg crunch and the pressure on my knee was nearly unbearable. I tried moving my other leg but the orc jerked it violently at the ankle. I snarled in white pain as I felt it break. Flailing my arms, I activated the flame spell within both palms and splayed fire in all directions. I bared my teeth and my scream rent the air.

"VILKAS!"

What else did I catch on fire? Is the orc on fire? He looks a tad bright. Not intelligent, but lit up. Like a tree decorated with candles. This tree lashed out a branch and twisted one of my arms to the ground. It was uncomfortably bent at the joints and I felt fingernails digging against my arm flesh, between the bare parts of my armor. The flow of my flame spell trickled into nonexistence. My body felt incredibly heavy, lying supine. Possibly as heavy as the pressure of an orc pinning my leg.

Suddenly the extra weight was gone. I stayed where I was, staring into the purple dusk sky. I felt heat wreathe around me, slowly approaching to suffocate. I tried moving the leg the orc had sat on but it trembled and wouldn't budge where I wanted it to go.

I felt hands grab at my calves. I yelped at the touch of my left, fearing bending my broken ankle further. The hands left. Soon I felt a cool bottle to my lips.

"Drink, Vai," Vilkas' voice urged. "It's a health potion. It'll give you temporary strength and heal your smaller wounds."

I did as he said, and soon from behind he hooked an arm around my shoulder and another under my thighs, carefully avoiding the knee, and lifted me. He swiftly trotted away from the fiery site and headed towards Karthwasten. I remember feeling my knee suddenly flare in pain and Vilkas feeding me another potion. His eyes glistened strangely, glancing down at me as he traveled. His lips were set in a frown.

xXxXxXx

"One room." Exchange of gold. More potion, please?

xXxXxXx

Mmm, warm pelts. Warm water. White cloth? No! Too tight. It hurts, it huuur… No, it feels good.

xXxXxXx

I awoke. I blinked my eyes open slowly. The first thing I noticed was the leisurely massaging of fingers around my knee and ankle. I yawned, tongue curling, and turned my head. I was in a small inn room, lit by a single candle and arranged simply with a bed, side table, and chest. I was occupying the bed. Vilkas sat on the floor at the edge of it, appearing half-asleep but rhythmically kneading his fingers gently to my weakened joints. The bulk of his armor was off, leaving his torso framed with a thin tunic. I craned my neck to look further down the room. My knee and ankle were wrapped tightly in linen. Past Vilkas on the floor were empty potion bottles. I cringed involuntarily, wondering how many I'd consumed.

Carefully, I shifted my legs. To my relief I felt nothing. Vilkas removed his hands and fully awakened. He stood up and cricked his back. I swung my legs over the side to sit up. Vilkas held out his arms to follow my movements.

"Not too fast!" he hushed.

"They don't hurt at all," I said, my tongue thick.

"And I'm not sure if that's a good or a bad thing. Do you have any feeling at all?"

I wiggled my toes. Then rolled my right ankle. I couldn't move my left, though I felt no pain. I started swaying my shoulders to and fro as if to a song.

"Stop that," Vilkas said, raising an eyebrow. "You're acting as if you're on skooma."

"Nooooo," I corrected him. "If I were on skooma, I'd be all over the walls by now." I smiled innocently up at him.

Vilkas shook his head. "I hate using alchemic products," he muttered almost to himself. "Not natural." He sat down beside me and handed me another potion bottle. "These can surprisingly mend almost any wound, though, including broken bones and cartilage. Just… if you start feeling any odd effects, tell me right away."

I sipped at the potion, letting its odd taste fill my senses. Not fruity as one might expect from the color. Nothing that would come from a food or drink. A light taste, with a bite of… something. Magic? I shrugged to myself and finished the small bottle.

"How long?" I said.

"H'm?"

"How long were we here?"

"Only about five hours." Vilkas moved back to lean against the wall framing the other side of the bed. I scooted back beside him. He looked me over. "The potions easily cleaned up any small burns and cuts. I just hope the numbing of your joints means progress."

"You mean you aren't sure if they actually cover broken bone?" I exclaimed.

"No-no." Vilkas held up his hands. "I know they can. It's just, I never keep any faith in something like that."

"Ah…" I rubbed my wounded knee, not feeling any sensation of the contact.

"So… How _did_ he manage to grab onto your ankle like that?" Vilkas placed his right hand on my left calf, fingers outstretched toward the broken ankle. "Your boot was a pain to remove. And it's a good thing that your new armor is light and easy to roll up." I glanced at him quickly and heated up at the thought of if it had to be moved further. He removed his hand from my skin, not noticing my expression though.

"I… I tried kicking him. You know, a good kick to knock him back."

Vilkas laughed, not quite a bark like Farkas' but a rough rumbling huff. "And was that your first time attempting a kick like that?"

"…Yes."

His smile widened, barely showing his teeth. I gave him a warning glare.

"My advice is to not use any kicking in combat unless you've practiced 'til perfection, Vai."

"Sure, sure." I yawned again. The turnout of events settled in my mind. "This is a horrible failure for a Companion, isn't it?" I said miserably. "Easily pinned by a bandit chief, filthy orc…"

"Even clean they still look filthy, don't they?" Vilkas joked.

"H'm, yes." I leaned my arm tiredly against his. "You haven't answered my question, though."

"You mean when you rhetorically added 'isn't it?'"

"Vilkas…" I began irritably.

He chuckled and put his arm loosely around my shoulders. His skin immediately warmed me up. "It's fine. Trust me. There is definitely no one who keeps perfect marks."

"Including you then." I put my head on his shoulder.

"Yes, including me." He stretched his neck to either side, which made his shoulder-length hair shift and tickle my face. I wrinkled my nose and almost laughed.

"So, what are we going to do next?" I asked, my tone gradually becoming quieter.

"I think that we should wait for you to fully heal then take out the rest of the bandits. No more kicking for you either." I felt his voice vibrate through him.

"Don't worry; I won't be doing any more of that." I paused. "Should we send a courier?"

"To whom?"

"The other Companions. We're… delayed; wouldn't they be wondering?"

"It's okay, Vai. It's normal for a task to go longer than initially expected. We'll be fine."

"Ah, okay…" I began closing my eyes. Suddenly a blue flash wracked my mind. "Icazstärn!" I exclaimed worriedly, jerking my head away from Vilkas' shoulder.

"Shhh, I carried it with me. Calm down. I placed it against the base of the chest."

My heart hammered at the sudden panic at forgetting about my blade. I hastily nestled my head back against Vilkas and took a deep breath.

"Probably all I need right now is rest," I murmured. I heard Vilkas "mhmm" in agreement. "Who would've thought-" I yawned again "-one Oblivion-sent misstep and I stumbled into this. I've never gotten this hurt at once before."

Vilkas waited several moments before replying. "Don't you mean, 'miskick,' not 'misstep?'"

"Hmph." I carefully folded my legs up, knees pointing to Vilkas. I pressed closer to him and closed my eyes, silently falling asleep to his breathing.


	12. The Language of Metal

Chapter 12 – The Language of Metal

_Jorrvaskr. My lips tingled as if they've just been touched. I began sauntering down the living quarters' hall. Shadows were heightened, obscuring any vision except that of ahead. The carpet before me seemed to glow with its own energy._

_Suddenly the scent of flesh hit my nostrils. I froze but not before I had kicked something solid with my left foot. I looked down in to see someone lying face down. I pulled it back by the shoulders. Limp. Dead. I let the body slump back so I could see the face._

_Ria the Imperial. A Companion I've hardly known, though my gut twisted. Her cold lips were parted, eyes opened and glazed. Her armor was ravaged, her exposed body, soiled. I backed up several steps, covering my nose and mouth from the stench of death._

_A scream sounded further down the hall._

_"Farkas!"_

_I knew that voice. Aela's. My eyes widened and I crept forward, keeping against the wall and to the shadows. _

_"FARKAS!" Her cry now held the tone of a growl. It was soon followed by a sound thump and a series of grunting and growling. I stopped before the small hallways that extended to either side of the main one, standing frozen in my spot. I waited to hear Aela's call again, but it never came. The shadows increased, the sound of my own heartbeat obscured my hearing, as the stench of death affected my sense of smell._

_"Sometimes it takes much longer than expected to know a person. Don't you agree, lass?"_

_I whipped around to see a hulking form briefly before I was engulfed in a grip of searing muscle. Then all was descended upon my body._

_"FARKAS!"_

"Vai, Vai! Wake up!"

I felt someone shaking my shoulders and I leapt up, arms and elbows hitting flesh. I knelt atop the bed and gazed at Vilkas, whom was now standing at the side of the bed and rubbing his jaw. He looked at me. I averted my gaze.

"So you were dreaming about my brother." I stayed quiet, still numb in the mind from the sensation of a dream. Vilkas sighed and dropped his hands. "A nightmare, by the sound of it." I met his eyes but didn't say anything aloud. _He terrified me_, I tried to say. _He..._

"I was just speaking to the maiden that runs the inn," Vilkas continued, standing up straighter. "That Orc had left a letter and I showed the woman. I now know where the fort is, the homebase of these bandits. Just further north than where we were, out west of the Karth River."

I nodded slightly and turned my eyes to the open door. Vilkas must've rushed in here when he heard me. I got off the bed and studied my legs. Both seemed fine, so I unwrapped the linen. My previously broken ankle was now healed and pink with scar tissue.

"I'm ready to go," I said steadily. I took a step towards Vilkas. I suddenly jolted towards him, my leg feeling awkward. He caught me and I quickly pushed off of him. He raised a brow when he caught my eye.

"Let me just try out walking around a little," I muttered, shuffling out of the small room. Vilkas followed closely, holding his hands ready to grip me.

"I'm fine now, really," I assured, feeling awkward. After a few steps, both of my legs easily adjusted. "Would've been easier to balance if I still had a tail, though," I added half-bitterly. From the corner of my vision, I saw the maiden look up sharply and give me an odd look. I met her stare sternly and grasped Vilkas' arm.

"I'm ready," I repeated, tugging him towards the door to outside.

"No."

I glared at him. "Excuse me?"

Vilkas' serious expression broke into a grin. "You need to put on your armor and grab retrieve sword, lass."

I felt my face flush and quickly let go of him to walk back into the little bedroom. I closed the door and pulled on my special armor. When I exited again, Vilkas was ready nearby and handed me half a bread loaf. I took it and ripped at it hungrily as we left the inn.

Light snow and wind greeted my face. I blinked, adjusting my sensitive eyes to the white daylight. I located the sun and began the trek north.

"Let's just... get this... over with," I said between deep breaths. Vilkas nodded beside me. I watched him for a moment; he almost appeared to be struggling to keep up. I suppressed a grin.

About an hour later, a looming mass of walls was visible in the near distance. Vilkas and I stopped behind a boulder with a gnarled tree growing from it.

"I assume that's the fort?" I whispered.

Vilkas dipped his head shortly, eyes on the fort. "Aye."

I took a breath. "I want to use my beast form this time."

"Oh? I see no issue in that." Vilkas turned his gaze to me. "Though where will you safekeep that mysterious armor?"

I narrowed my brows in thought but began stripping my armor and clothes, facing my back to the Nord. As I was moving to place the curaiss of my armor on the ground, a small object dropped from within its folds. Curious, I reached down to pick it up. It was an amulet of swirling metal the same as on my armor and a thick chord at least thrice the length of a normal amulet's.

"What is it?" Vilkas questioned behind me.

"It just fell..." I trailed off as the amulet suddenly flashed silvery white. I dropped the object, and it flared even brighter for a split second. Then the light was gone – along with the armor I had removed from my body.

_Could my armor be… _inside _it?_ I wondered. I tapped the amulet's cold surface and it flared to life again. A second later the missing armor appeared on the ground beside it.

"That's a marvel," Vilkas mused. "Now why couldn't most magic be tactful like that?"

After making Vilkas turn away, I removed the rest of my armor and clothing. I tapped the amulet again, and it took in every bit of the armor, including the boots. The only things left were my regular clothes I had worn beneath. At least they weren't worth much. I picked up the amulet, as weightless as if it did not contain every piece of my armor, and looped it around my neck. The extra length should fit my beast form's neck comfortably.

"I'm going in," I announced, calling for the beast blood within me. The yowling was easier to grasp this time, and within moments I felt the cat-like beast overtake my body.

I snarled at the sky in glee. _Follow me if you can! _I shrieked mentally to Vilkas. He raised a brow but readied his blade. I bounded away, my paws sailing through the air.

It didn't take long for the first posted bandit to call out my arrival. Without waiting, I crashed through the half-open gateway and pounced on the first bandit I came across. The impact was strong enough to dispatch her with a violent jolt to the spine. I swiftly leapt over the body and at the next bandit, whom I killed by swiping at the head twice with my paws, several-inch-long claws unsheathed. The end of my second blow met the flesh of another enemy. I whipped around and drove my talons further into the muscle. My vision was blinded by red bloodlust as I ripped apart whatever living thing I touched.

I was faintly aware of the sting of blades and arrow tips grazing my pelt. I bounded over several dead bodies, flaring my nostrils and taking in the thick scent of rural humanity. I opened my mouth, further tasting the scents on my tongue. Ah! There. One source bled authority. I blinked and centered my vision on the entrance that led _into _the fort. I charged towards the doors and rammed my way in.

Unaware bandits started and scrambled out of the way. I ignored them and bounded down the narrow hallways, following the scent. Several men attempted blocking my way further ahead. I grabbed one's throat within my jaws and jerked his body around, in the process knocking over the rest of the bandits with the body and my front legs. I sank my fangs into the neck, letting the hot blood spill into my ready mouth. The beast blood howled in ecstasy as I fed it with the blood and flesh. Without a moment wasted, I continued on my way.

"What the-" a large man began saying, rising from his seat beside a firepit as I tore into the wide room. The leadership scent rolled from the man and flooded my senses. Once again my vision flashed red.

"Damnable sabre cat," the bandit leader growled, readying two swords.

_Sabre cat? _I howled in my mind. _Oh, but you see, it is not so simple…_

And so claw and blade clashed. I admit, he did put up a fight and left some dark bruises and bleeding cuts – but one miscalculation allowed me to fling an arm and blade aside and snag my claws beneath his armor and into the soft flesh of a throat.

The bloodlust and adrenaline had left me after that last fight. I waited in the room until my beast form faded away into the background of my soul again, quickly cleaning my wounds with my tongue. When I had changed, I observed my surroundings. The firepit wasn't simply a firepit, but a small forge. Scattered on the floor were steel ingots. I remembered my long claws, and an idea flashed into my mind.

About a quarter of an hour later, Vilkas found me hunched over the forge.

"What are you doing…?" he asked cautiously, wiping the blood off his sword with a torn piece of hide.

"Forging," I muttered as an answer, crafting the steel with intense concentration.

"I can see that, but why now? …And what exactly?"

Smithing was obviously one of my weaker skills, but I just _knew_ I could craft what I had in mind. "Wait," I murmured to Vilkas, not wholly sure if he could hear me. "Just let me finish this."

I am not sure of how much time had passed, but my shield-brother waited patiently, pacing the hallways and sifting through the bandits' supplies. When I had finished, I yelled out in glee and Vilkas came trotting over, alert.

Before him, I held ten sharpened shells of roughly fused metal, about half a foxtail in length each.

"They're… very nice…?" Vilkas said uncertainly.

"They're claws," I impatiently replied, easily reading his confusion. "For my beast form. I'll put them over my actual claws, and it will be like wielding ten daggers at once!" I explained, my excitement creeping.

"Ah." Vilkas studied them momentarily. Then his eyes glinted with a smile. "Clever and deadly. We can get Eorlund to perfect the idea when we return."

I absently began walking to the exit of the room, placing each metal claw over my fingers. They extended past my fingertips. I smiled darkly. "I wonder if they could actually become a part of my beast form…" I mused.

"What did you say?" Vilkas came up behind me.

I didn't repeat myself. I clicked the claws together a couple of times, then took them off and slipped them into a pouch attached to my armor. I felt a hot hand settle on my shoulder.

"You were a bit frightening, Vai," Vilkas spoke softly to me. "You should've seen yourself romping through the fort."

_Romping…_ That word… _Romping with Farkas…_ The sensations of my nightmare blazed through my head. Vilkas noticed me suppress a shudder.

"Come on," he continued. "Let us return to the rest of our shield-siblings."

I stopped to turn and face him. "After one more night at the inn," I added. "To… catch up on more rest."

Vilkas' metallic eyes shone. "Yes…"


	13. Dogs and Cats

**Author's Note: I have an idea for an Avatar: The Last Airbender fanfic that I would like to start sometime. I still have plans to continue this story, but feedback of what you guys would like next would be great. :) Please leave reviews, and I am really grateful for those who follow this story!**

Chapter 13 – Dogs and Cats

After leaving the fort, we approached the side of the Karth River. My skin and hair was splattered with blood and bits of flesh, as was Vilkas' though to a lesser extent. If we were to stay at the inn one more night, we decided it was best to not barge in covered in gore and casually ask for a room. Although, as I pointed out to Vilkas just shortly before we began washing ourselves in the river's cold, crystalline water, inns probably house some odd gory folk anyway.

"I'd rather sleep without the stickiness and stench of slaughter," my shield-brother had replied.

"But you barely even have any of the gore on your actual skin. And nice alliteration, by the way."

He had raised an eyebrow at my last comment, and I had answered that my parents had hired a tutor for me while growing up in Leyawiin.

Now I sat on the rocky edge of the Karth River. I had removed my boots and stuck my toes into the current.

"Don't look," I instructed Vilkas. He glanced at me then turned around, understanding my intention. I removed my armor quickly, it packaging itself neatly within the metal pendant on its own. I slipped into the river and clung onto a large stone jutting from the bottom, letting the current pull and wash most of the grime from my skin. I dunked my head temporarily and ran my fingers through my hair. I quickly reemerged, taking in a deep breath. Being completely submerged in water made me extremely uncomfortable; the pressure always seemed to heavy, even with my head a finger's length beneath the surface. After rubbing my skin down with a hand – my other hand holding onto the stone – I pulled myself out of the river and tried wiping and flicking the water drops off my body. I shivered as a cool autumn breeze whispered across the terrain.

"Are you done now…?" Vilkas asked cautiously.

"No." I swiftly twisted up my hair, squeezing the trapped water out, and tied it up in a loose ponytail. Not wanting Vilkas to wait too long, I pulled on my armor when I was only partially dry. "Okay, now I'm done."

Vilkas turned so his right side was now facing me and removed his gauntlets. I noticed that they held most of the mark of battle. They and his blade. Other than that, I only saw a speck or two on his breastplate and insides of elbows. He quickly rinsed off his gauntlets and tied a thin rope around them to hold them by until they fully dry. He crouched and splashed water over his face.

"Ready to go?" Vilkas returned to a stand and stepped towards me. I stared at him blankly for a moment. I had been watching him, studying his form as he bent down to touch the water. Now I took note of how the hair framing his face was wet from when he briefly washed his face, clinging along his jawline. Vilkas offered me a small smile. "Cold?"

"Y-yes…" I broke from my trance. I realize that I _had _been shivering. The sun had set and the cool breeze grew stronger. Being damp beneath my armor didn't help either.

"Let's go then." Vilkas strode past me, on the way tugging a brief hold of my arm. I followed him in silence.

We reached Karthwasten as dusk had just dissipated into pure nighttime darkness. No moon shone tonight. We entered the inn and Vilkas paid for a room.

"I assume you were successful in your raid?" the innkeeper said casually. I assumed Vilkas had told her of our goal when asking about the location of the fort.

"Very much so."

"I am sure the villagers and travelers are very grateful for this."

Vilkas' eyes appeared to smile. I lightly placed a hand over my mouth to hide my own little smile. He seemed to genuinely like his work as a Companion for that it helps the people of Skyrim.

With a thankful nod, Vilkas turned away from the innkeeper and we entered our room.

"Do you have any spare light clothes in your pouch?" I asked, removing my gauntlets and boots. I had forgotten about mine when they did not store themselves within the pendant as my armor did.

"I have a loose tunic and trousers. They'll probably be too big for you."

"That'll be fine." I thanked him as I took the clothes. "Now if you'd leave for a moment…"

When he closed the door I swiftly removed my armor and put on the off-white clothing. I called him back in. He suppressed a chuckle.

"Those are bigger than I thought they would be."

I held out my arms and the sleeves hung down. "Oh well, they'll be comfortable."

Vilkas smiled at me and studied my frame for several moments until he told me, "Now it's your turn to not look." I shrugged as if defeated and turned around, standing close to the farthest wall opposite of the door.

"Okay, finished." I turned 180 degrees again. My eyes darted to him then quickly averted to his face. His upper torso was bare. My legs suddenly weak, I found the edge of the bed and sat down on its fur-blanketed surface.

"I only have one tunic," he explained. "Though two pairs of trousers."

"…Why's that?" I asked, not knowing what else to say.

He shrugged, then laughed. "Honestly, I have no clue. I used to have two full sets but I believe Farkas 'borrowed' one of the tunics before."

"I see." I moved back in order to give myself room to sit cross-legged. He joined my side and sat similarly.

The only light in the room came from two small candles on the side table near the head of the bed where I now sat. My eyes easily soaked in every speck of light, and I knew my vision was better than Vilkas'.

"That was... impressive... fighting today," the Companion said after a moment of hanging silence.

"Thank you. I'd say the same but I didn't exactly see you fighting." I propped up my chin on my wrists, which were supported by my elbows on my knees. "I'm sure you did great, though," I added.

"Hah, thanks." Vilkas leaned back against the wall. He closed his eyes halfway and peered at me. "Are you still cold?"

I shook my head. "Not really... I warmed up fairly fast when we came inside." Actually right now I felt a tad too warm.

"Winter's approaching," he murmured. "I'm expecting to see the first snow any moment now."

I shuddered dramatically. "I definitely prefer the warm and hot seasons."

"Even when you had all that fur?"

I shot him a glare. "Yes. You know that Khajiit *are* native to a desert and tropical region. Elsweyr is one of the southernmost provinces of Tamriel."

"Have you ever been there?"

"No... I think that my family even up to my great grandparents lived in Cyrodiil their whole lives."

"Except your father and Nord mother."

"The mother that I've always known is a Cyrodiilic Khajiit," I snapped. "And my father did not _live_ in Skyrim."

"What was he like?" Vilkas questioned calmly, ignoring my snap.

"My father? He was a trickster, clever and strong. And good at keeping secrets, apparently." I reminisced. "And loving. He always shown affection for my mother and myself, always willing to help and support... whenever he was actually home. Whenever he wasn't he told us that he was just going off to trade to provide money for our family. Though then he was probably carrying out contracts for the Dark Brotherhood."

After a few heartbeats of silence, Vilkas lightly took my hand in his own. I glanced at him.

"Then within the last few months, Imperial guards came into our home and tried arresting him. My mother and I were completely in the dark. My father resisted arrest and denied all the claims of assassination and theft that were true, so the guards attacked. My mother told me to run away just before she tried assisting my father in the fight. They managed to kill two guards together before reinforcements came and killed them themselves." I was slightly surprised that I was able to recount this without tears, managing to hold back any threat of excessive emotion. "Do you know," I decided to say, barking a weak laugh, "how racist Imperials are towards Khajiit?"

"...No, I have not," Vilkas murmured in answer.

"I haven't noticed any Imperials in Skyrim with such attitude - such as Ria - but in Cyrodiil, my family and I were always callled 'mangy house cats' and they received more distrust than what I've observed in this province... even though Khajiit can live freely in the Imperial Province and are not allowed within town walls in Skyrim."

"I see," Vilkas politely commented. "And so you decided to come to Skyrim? Why not Elsweyr?"

"Now that," I mused, "was never quite clear to myself. Why I chose to come to Skyrim out of all regions in Tamriel."

Vilkas tightened his fingers around mine briefly. "Could it have been your Nordic blood calling...?"

I looked at him sharply, then nodded once. "Maybe..."

We sat in silence as time waved by. My eyes slanted as my mind began drifting, suddenly feeling all of today's efforts. I was barely conscious of his head brushing up against mine.

"You are... amazing..." he almost purred, his voice very low. "Beautiful..."

_Beautiful?_ I blinked slowly.

"I was unsure if you'd be up for the life of a Companion," he continued. "But yet, I'm like that with every new member..." He inhaled gradually, and a strand of his dark hair tickled my face. "As you progressed through ranks, I began to notice something special of you. When you began spending individual time with my brother, I felt a strange, very strong feeling. Especially after you... changed."

I had been listening to every word he spoke. I let it soak in, but at his last statement, I felt something snap.

"After I '_changed_'?" I hissed suddenly. He reared away from me, as if struck. "Both you and Farkas, you've only given me attention when my appearance had changed. You-you wouldn't even look at me as if I were an equal." I stood up, staring down at him.

"J'vairi," Vilkas whispered. He was looking up at me with wide eyes.

"You're even a wolf. So it's not like there should be any animal-related awkwardness. Or is it that dogs don't like cats?" If I still had a tail, I'd be lashing it.

"Vai." Vilkas' jaw was tight. "Vai, I meant everything I said. It is the truth. It is just that when you had changed, you seemed more… approachable."

"Well that sounds familiar." My mouth was in a firm line.

"Vai," he tried again. "I-"

"Off the bed. Now," I ordered. "I will be sleeping on it. Alone." He looked as if he wanted to say something else. I pointed sternly away from the bed. He stood up and loomed over me. His eyes glinted, brighter than usual and stark against the darkness of his warpaint. My heart pounded against my chest as he met his firm gaze to my eyes. I held it and would not back down.

"Two unbonded alphas makes a dangerous air," he muttered. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, then his whole body seemed to relax. I kept my dominant stance. He slipped away and sat down neatly on the floor. When I looked at him, he gestured me to the bed.

I returned to my seat on the bed. For a while, Vilkas and I watched each other, his gaze seemingly dispassionate, and mine stern and wary. Later found me lying down, curled up and facing the wall, trying to clear my mind in order to fall asleep.

_He genuinely likes me_… a voice inside whispered, forming a thought.

_No, he only wants me now because I look Nord enough, _I thought back bitterly.

_But he doesn't seem like the type of person to confess, let alone be attracted, to just anyone, even if she is a Nord._

My ears twitched at the patter of dirt on the floor as Vilkas stood up. _You better not touch me…_

_But I want you to_.

_No!_

The only sounds to be heard were the quiet _tssss_ of little candle flames being extinguished.

_I must clear my mind._ I listened to him settle down on the floor. I had the impulse to toss him the pelt blanket but suppressed the thought. I curled my body closer together and closed my eyes tightly. As I began clearing my head, I noticed the scent of the clothes I was wearing. Faint but thick, with a warm scent, not quite a flower or soap but very… pleasing. And familiar. It _was_ the scent I had only found around Vilkas, _his _scent.I focused completely on the smell.

_And to think, I can easily have more than just his _scent_ right now_.

_No…_

Silent sleep fell upon me as the warm scent wreathed around me, filling my mind.


	14. S'karthast

Chapter 14 – S'Karthast

_A shadow fell over me, a shadow darker than the shadows of night, another person. _

_"I meant everything I said."_

_Suddenly I found myself standing before a mirror, Vilkas behind me and holding an intricate cross-shaped amulet to his neck._

_"That's a little bold for you," I laughed. _

_He placed his hands on my shoulders. "It means I am-"_

_The scene averted again. I was in the forest border, the clearing that I had first practiced in with Farkas. He was there now, and we were both in our respective beast forms. _

_His wolf form snarled at me and launched his heavy body onto mine. He dug his claws against my shoulders and pinned me down. _

You were just playing with me, eh?_ his voice growled in my head._

_Terror seized me. _What?

_I _claimed you first. It was _I _who accepted you_ from the beginning._

_I felt his whole body weight shift down on mine, suffocating. I thrashed beneath him, trying to squirm away. He pressed harder until I couldn't move at all…_

I awoke when my body struck the floor, along with another body. Thick arms wrapped around myself to hold me up. I realized I was still thrashing my limbs.

"_Vai_, you're_ awake_. Stop it." The arms enclosed tighter and I couldn't move. "There we go. Relax..."

I closed my eyes and leaned back against Vilkas, feeling exhausted.

"Another dream?" he said quietly into my ear. I nodded slightly and moved to stand up. He released his hold on me.

"Look, about last night," he began saying. I quickly raised a hand to silence him.

"Turn around," I instructed, finding my voice. "I'm getting dressed, then we can find our way back to Jorrvaskr."

He did as I told and I slipped on my armor. I tossed him his tunic and trousers and turned around myself so he could get ready. I tied back my hair.

"Ready?" Vilkas asked. I confirmed and we left the room. We grabbed a small breakfast before heading out.

"At least your dream woke us up fairly early," he commented. I walked at a fast pace ahead of him, trying to keep my body warm. The time was just before the sunrise, and the night chill still swept the land. We travelled in silence, me leading the way east.

We cut through rocky terrain for the first half of the day until we met up with the road that would lead directly to Whiterun. Any conversation was casual, and Vilkas did not attempt to bring up talk of last night again. For the most part, a peaceful silence settled, filled with the calming sounds of nature.

"Look," I said, breaking the silence. Up ahead on the road I saw a small caravan and several figures. Too far for Vilkas to notice though I could see, were ears perched atop each figure's head. Khajiit traders.

"Who are they?"

"The traders." I began running. Maybe I'll learn more about my armor and maybe... something else.

"Khajiit?"

"Yes!" I thought I heard him huff, but I continued sprinting until I reached them. They looked like a different group of traders; I did not see the elderly female that gave me more of my armor. I slowed my pace. There were five Khajiit. One of them acknowledged me and trotted to my side.

"By Alkosh! You have S'karthast's eyes!" he exclaimed. His fur was white blotched with dark brown, and his eyes shown bright blue-green.

"S'karthast?" I repeated. The beginning was familiar, though not often used. My family's last name was S'karr. My father told me it meant "silver."

"Yes! Rahkei S'karthast, the Silvereye. This one's brother. And this one can definitely tell you have Rah's blood in you." The Khajiit offered a wide, toothy grin.

"My father had a brother?" At this point, Vilkas had caught up and was keeping a slight distance away from the traders. I felt his eyes studying the talking Khajiit and me.

The Khajiit shrugged. "Well, not littermates. But this one and Rah were great friends, always devious and stealthy. So much fun. Though he has not been spotted in these lands in such a long time." His bright eyes drooped.

"…Who are you?" I asked after a pause.

"This one is called by Kharjo. The leader of this caravan is Ahkari." He pointed a clawed finger to a tall, dark-furred female.

I nodded and introduced my own self. "I am J'vairi S'karr… S'karthast. I… I am genuinely pleased that you were able to tell I am Khajiit.

"Of course! The essence bleeds off you."

I dipped my head and smiled. "What else can you sense?"

"This one can smell Nord blood. And… something else. Something raw and bestial, but not in the bad way."

"You are very correct." I gave him a short, pleased bow. I thought I saw the Khajiit named Ahkari look at us briefly and smiled. I also noticed that a large, burly Khajiit was shooting glares at Vilkas. I held in a smirk and turned back to Kharjo. "You also knew my father! How long ago?"

"Oh, this one grew up with Rah!" He tapped his fingers as if counting. "Oh, must be at least twenty season-cycles ago now. So long… This one misses his brother."

"He's… dead now," I announced.

Kharjo's eyes widened and he released a sharp wail. "Oh no! This one assumes he had been caught committing devious activity. A ceremony must be arranged for him. Personal, though, of course…" He began trailing off.

"How much," I said, wanting to learn more, "do you know about his own family?"

"Rah… He was motherless and his father took off, leaving him when he was a tiny cub. From what this one knows, he had found a couple Khajiit traders to travel from the Imperial Province here to Skyrim with. Then he was left with this one and Mother, and since then this one and Rah became great brothers." His eyes closed halfway, reminiscing. "His father did leave him with only one thing marking his heritage, though." His eyes trailed over my body, for the first time straying from my eyes. I raised an eyebrow, wondering what he was doing. "Armor of true S'karthast craft," he rumbled.

I stared at him, then after a moment shouted, "My armor!" I held up my left arm and traced the metal swirls on the sleeve. "This is from my father?"

Kharjo offered a smile and nodded. "He has his ways. Oh, how this one misses riling things up with brother Rah."

"The centerpiece of the armor was anonymously left for me in Whiterun… and a… an elderly female Khajiit provided the rest." I felt myself playing with the matching pendant around my neck.

"A Khajiit of another caravan, this one assumes… since Rah's daughter has not shown any sign of recognition – here." With his arm he gestured to the rest of his group.

My lips quirked in a smile. "Indeed."

"And," Kharjo continued, bright eyes reflecting the sunlight, "this one also assumes that Rah had merely left the armor in trader care until the time came."

"So it was probably a caravan that travels from here to Cyrodiil," I mused, "since that has been my home for most of my life."

"The craft," Kharjo murmured, "S'karthast craft, has always held its own magic. You should be very honored to be a part of its lineage."

We were distracted from our conversation when the burly Khajiit met blades with Vilkas.

"Is there some limited amount of footsteps where I cannot get closer to a caravan?" the Nord said angrily.

"Only offensive warrior humans," the large Khajiit hissed. He shoved his claymore abruptly forward, making Vilkas stumble. I can tell that my shield-brother itched to enter a full-fledged fight, but did not want to cause the whole caravan trouble.

Kharjo chuckled. "Dro'marash does not like your mate, little J'vairi."

The Khajiit named Dro'marash succeeded in chasing Vilkas back to his original distance from the caravan.

"My mate?" I exclaimed. I felt my face grow hot. "Vilkas is not my mate. We're Companions. He's my… shield-brother." I knew my voice shook.

Kharjo rolled his eyes. "But it is obvious he is something more."

"How-"

The Khajiit held up a clawed finger. "Ah ah. This one has the ability to easily read people, and more than just determining their blood origins." He grinned toothily.

I glanced at Vilkas, then to the caravan. Dro'marash was sneering triumphantly. I faced Kharjo again. "But I am not even sure myself," I said in a hushed tone.

"Reading even when the subject is not sure is yet another part of this one's abilities!" he replied gleefully. "Though this one can tell there is another potential mate, which causes hesitation."

"His brother… but…"

"This one sees Rah in your expressions," Kharjo said. "This one knows his attracted look and scent, which is much stronger towards that warrior-" he indicated Vilkas with a jerk of his chin "-than when your thoughts are turned to this brother."

_Curious reader, brother of my father, how do you have this ability, and is it completely true?_

Kharjo's gaze seemed to answer, _Verify within yourself._

I closed my eyes and felt Kharjo grip my arm in order to lead me while we still traveled with the caravan. I focused within my mind, as if I was trying to reach my beast form. Instead of listening for the yowling of the sabre cat-like creature, I let my thoughts find the shape of a man. I latched my mental vision onto the figure. He held a hand to me, reaching, inviting. I tried focusing on who this was and realized it could be either of the twins.

"Notice the small details," I heard Kharjo's soft voice murmur into my ear.

I regained my focus from the temporary distraction and studied the man. It was as if a slight haze shrouded him. I bit back frustration and scanned my memories for something of one I could notice.

_The earring?_ I used all of my ability to concentrate on his right ear, when facing me was to the left. A glint, a shine, anything like that I needed to verify.

And there it was.

I pulled back into consciousness of the real world, opening my eyes.

"This one was correct, was he not?" I looked at a smiling Kharjo.

"You very much were," I said, silently, almost without voice. The Khajiit still held my arm until I proved that I regained the sense of walking again.

Whiterun was now visible, and the sun began to dip behind the western mountains behind us. I looked at Vilkas and immediately was able to tell that he was uncomfortable and annoyed that he could not walk beside me. I offered him a shrug, not quite being able to conceal a grin.

"This one must assist you now?" Kharjo's voice brought my focus back to him.

"Assist?" I repeated, raising a brow.

"With courting!" he yowled.

"_Courting?_" Sounding like a parrot was the last thing I was concerned about. In the corner of my vision I saw Vilkas glance at my exclamation.

"You need help, do you not? This one will prove more than willing to help the kin of brother Rah! And you obviously need help with this situation… Khajiit-style." He tilted his head slightly and winked.

"Oh Akatosh, Khaji-"

"Yes yes yes. You shall meet up this one everyday this one is at Whiterun. You will know when by this certain call." Suddenly Kharjo released a piercing, 3-note yowl.

Dro'marash set Kharjo a strict glare, tufted ears twitching. Kharjo chuckled. "This call will announce this one's arrival in Whiterun at the beginning of each stay. Come for a session everyday."

"I have Companion duties, though…"

"Finish them, then come at evening."

I could tell there would be no arguing with this Khajiit. I knew that any attempt would be with half effort, though. I actually felt a spark of excitement for what Kharjo could teach me.

"…Starting tomorrow!"

"Okay, I will do, Kharjo." He grinned.

"This one will prove much help."

We were now walking up the road leading straight into Whiterun. Ahkari led her caravan group to a clearing beside the road. They began unpacking.

"Thank you," I said to Kharjo, "for the whole conversations and knowledge."

"And there is more to come." Suddenly he wrapped his arms tightly around me and gave my nose a quick lick. "You even smell like Rah, underneath."

I was laughing uncontrollably for the first time in awhile and licked Kharjo's soft nose in return.

"This one will see you the morrow's evening!"

"Indeed!" I broke away from the caravan group. Vilkas was right there, ready for me. His nose wrinkled in disgust. I took his hand, feeling cheerful, enlightened, and led him into Whiterun.

"He… _licked_ you," Vilkas' voice cracked. "And you… licked him back!"

"I often did that with my parents when I was little," I defended myself. "Like family kissing."

"But you're not-"

"Vilkas, I have as much Khajiit blood in me as I have Nord blood. Please don't forget that. Either of them."

Vilkas offered me a slight smile, tinged with discomfort.

"Please," I repeated, stopping and standing right in front of him. I looked up to meet his eyes.

"I promise." He reached a hand to brush off my nose with his fingers, then, unexpectedly, licked my nose. It was barely a touch but enough to warm my whole body with happiness. "Now," Vilkas murmured, "I think we shall finally return to Jorrvaskr and recount to Kodlak of our success."

**Author's Note: I had a lot of fun making my own version of Kharjo's character. I just see his whole personality adorable and I hope my readers enjoy this chapter as much as I did. :)**


	15. Scratch Marks

**GUYS, I APOLOGIZE FOR NOT UPDATING SOONER! I've had more difficult courses this semester and kind of dropped out of a writing mood for awhile. Well, I'm back now! Thanks for waiting! :O**

Chapter 15 – Scratch Marks

I awoke the next morning – quite late in the morning, I might add – in my room downstairs at Jorrvaskr to the confused bumbling of the Companions.

"Dragonborn."

"What about J'vairi-?"

"Have you actually seen her use the Voice?"

"There were multiple ones in the past-"

I quickly straightened up and got dressed and exited my room to enter the main hallway of the living quarters - to intercept Vilkas. His hands caught my elbows. Our eyes met for a moment, then he let go of me and let me walk in front of him, his hand hovering over my shoulder.

"What's going-" I began to ask.

Athis, Aela, and Farkas approached me and all began talking at once. I backed up, bumping into Vilkas who stood still, allowing the contact to my (hopefully hidden) pleasure.

Farkas spoke up, "Since you weren't here yesterday-" his voice seemed strained "-I'll explain that there is - supposedly - another Dragonborn here in Skyrim. Whiterun now, actually." His eyes flicked to his brother behind me and narrowed slightly. He returned his gaze to me. "What we're wondering is how can that happen, when you're the current Dragonborn?"

I was about to reply when Athis cut in. "She hasn't even approached the Greybeards," the Dunmer sneered. "What, all we've seen her do was absorb one soul?"

I glared at him before responding to Farkas. "There have been multiple Dragonborns at one time in the past, correct? If there is another Dragonborn besides me right now, does it matter?"

"No," Aela answered. Her face looked unusually pale without her warpaint. Today must be a day off for her.

Athis chimed in, "It does, actually. This means that Skyrim may finally have a Dovahkiin that could clear up this dragon problem."

I thought I heard Vilkas growl behind me. Everyone was silent for a moment. _This... Was that supposed to be my goal before knowing of this new Dragonborn?_ I thought. _Well... I... I don't have to worry about it at all, right?_ Feeling slightly guilty at not wanting extra responsibility, I turned and glanced at Vilkas. He offered a quick, half-smile and addressed the three before us.

"Destiny isn't set in stone, especially before a person knows of his or her own abilities." He paused. "No one has opposed to J'vairi's help here with the Companions. Her own destiny, one she has chosen for herself, appears to me as her settling here, in Skyrim, and aiding locals in need." He placed his hands on my forearms. "If there is a new Dovahkiin, great. But I think we all know now where and how Vai is settling her life."

I felt my face grow warm, and I wholeheartedly agreed with everything he had to say. I leaned back against him briefly, thankful for him voicing that opinion. When I straightened again, I noticed Farkas and Aela nodding. Athis shrugged and walked off.

"J'VAI, J'VAAAAAAIIIIIRIIIIIII!" I flinched as I saw Torvar rushing towards us, descending from upstairs. His bloodshot eyes were ridiculously wide. He rushed to a halt between Farkas and Aela, keening over, panting. "J'vai, there is. A new. Another. Huff. Dragonborn! Huff. Yet I barely. Knew. About you being one!" Farkas raised a brow and pushed Torvar's shoulder. The latter's lack of balance left him on the floor.

Kodlak emerged from his quarters and began walking by us. "I've heard that this Dovahkiin is a Nord named Rhyderan. He's already helped out Jarl Balgruuf and his mage, Farengar Secret-Fire. Rumor has it, he's visiting the Greybeards right now." I watched the Harbinger walk by, aiming for the staircase. Aela followed him after offering me a light smile. _A full-blood Nord. An ideal hero of Skyrim, _I thought, trying to push back the notion that that was probably supposed to be _my_ responsibility. I shook my head slightly.

"It shouldn't matter," Vilkas murmured. "Let's go grab breakfast and clear out a new bandits' nest that sprung up nearby." He lightly grabbed my hand and led me towards the stairs. I saw that Farkas had decided to sit down at one of the tables down here in this hallway. Torvar was scrambling to join him as Vilkas and I ascended.

We sat down beside each other. "Ah, um, how was your sleep last night?" Vilkas asked, seemingly trying too hard to be casual.

"Hmm, relatively… boring," I responded, adding a half-hearted chuckle.

"No nightmares?" His metallic eyes scanned my face.

"No…" I suppressed a shiver at remembering my last one. I took a bite of some bread. "Do you think it's true, this new Dovahkiin?"

"Yes, but like I said. It shouldn't matter." He scooted his chair closer to mine and bent his head down. "And don't feel guilty about what Athis said," he murmured in my ear. "It seems like this Rhyderan knows what he's doing. You… You've found a home now."

"Thank you…" I breathed.

"Mhmm." A pause. "Look… Remember when I warned you about my brother?"

"Yes." I looked at Vilkas curiously.

"Well, we have, um, different values when it comes to… mates," he said, barely putting breath into that last word. I waited for him to elaborate. "Farkas… well, it's basically grab-and-go with him. And it doesn't matter how many times."

"What do you mean?"

"He's… been… with a handful of Nord women in Whiterun, including Aela. And now, the look I see him give you…" His voice dropped extremely low. "Vai, sometimes he actually frightens me. I'm… frightened for you."

"Oh…" I squirmed slightly, uneasy. "I'll… try to avoid him."

Vilkas seemed to not have a further reply to that, so we continued the rest of our breakfast in silence. It was not awkward but rather a little… comforting.

I noticed that hewas already garbed in his armor; I had only thrown on my light clothes. I told him I had to go change and grab Icazstärn before we head out. I went downstairs again and made way for my bedroom. I subconsciously noted that no one was sitting at any of the tables down here. As I entered my room, the door was quickly – but silently – shut behind me, and an arm wrapped around my neck and shoulders. A hand covered my mouth, and I was shoved against the wall, my back facing it. Before me was Farkas.

He lifted his hand from my mouth. "What-" I began.

"Shut up," he interrupted. His eyes glinted fiercely behind the dark warpaint. Stunned, I complied.

He wasn't wearing his armor at the moment and was wearing a loose tunic and breeches. He planted his hands against the wall on either side of me. I looked up at him cautiously.

"Something has happened between you and my brother," he accused. I shifted uneasily. "Did he bed you?" he continued. I shook my head at the same time he repeated, "Did he?!"

"No!" I replied heatedly. I tried slipping down for an escape route, but Farkas grabbed my forearms and pulled me up into the same position. "Stop it," I growled quietly. I was doing the best I could do to suppress my growing fear.

"He… he's seemed to have claimed you," the Nord rumbled in return. He pressed closer to me. It was too easy to feel the shape of his body, the heat radiating from his skin. "Everyone seems to think he's gotten all of Ysgramor's smarts and I'm not as intelligent," he said angrily as if to himself. "But yet, I have enough 'smarts' to see what's going on."

"He's warned me about you," I said, barely audible. I curled my toes in agitation and tried shoving my arms between us – to no avail.

"What?" He pressed harder, easily deflecting my attempts to push him away.

"No…" I practically moaned. "Just please get out."

"Since when has that bastard been interested in anything beyond finding a cure?" he muttered as if to himself, his eyes glazed. He blinked once, slowly, then averted his gaze directly on me again. "Just…" He growled. "Come here."

He kissed me. It was rough, his scruff scratching my jaw and cheek. Him pressing his lips to mine, then to my chin and jaw line. I tasted… dominance. So much dominance.

Then it was over. He was gone. I slumped to the floor and put my head in my hands.

I had quickly recollected myself – on the outside, not quite sure about the inside yet – and had put on my S'karthast armor and applied my warpaint – a few dark streaks over my left eye. I put Icazstärn in its scabbard and met Vilkas outside of Jorrvaskr. His expression was questioning.

"Come, come come," I told him, ready to get out of Whiterun into the free expanses.

Today was the first day of Evening Star. Light snowflakes drifted to the ground. I shivered. Vilkas took the lead and began heading east of the city's walls. We were quiet for about a quarter of a league.

"Okay, I smell Farkas all over you. What happened?" I could not detect any standing emotion in his voice.

"He…" I reflected the whole experience to Vilkas. At the end, I realized that I was shaking. Vilkas had slowed to a stop.

"He _what?_" He faced me, lips tight in a straight line. I placed a gauntleted hand on his arm. "You must not be alone around him," he said in a strained voice. "If I'm not around, at least have Aela with you."

"I thought that you said Farkas had… been… with Aela before?" I stepped closer to him, suddenly wishing we didn't have layers of armor between us.

"No. I mean yes. Yes, he took her. But… she's not bad about it like he is. She's found that she'd rather not have any of it. And-" he laughed, an odd sound at the moment "-she surprised him alright when she realized that."

"So you're saying Aela holds some power over him?"

"In a way, yes. So please, _please_, have her around you when I'm not there and… he… still is."

I looked up at him. "I promise. He… frightened me today."

He lifted his hand and, barely touching, stroked my hair. "I know," he murmured.

In silent agreement, we proceeded with our current task. We easily dispatched the bandits, although it took us most of the afternoon, and, during the whole event, neither of us had brought up any of the prior discussions of the day. On the way returning to Whiterun, I remembered Kharjo's promise to meet with me this evening. Had he loosed that three-noted yowl this morning? It's likely that no one around had noticed if they hadn't been paying attention. Regardless, the Khajiit did say to meet tonight.

And Kharjo did stop me as we walked up the road that led into Whiterun. Ahkari's caravan was set up along the left side of the road, and the Khajiit traders were completing side tasks, given that they had no customers at the moment. Kharjo greeted me with a quick hug. I turned around to see Vilkas eyeing up the Khajiit. I told Kharjo to wait a moment and ran towards Vilkas.

"Go ahead to Jorrvaskr. I'll come back after dinnertime," I tried reassuring him.

"Mhm." His arms were crossed.

"Vilkas. It's okay. Kharjo is practically my uncle, and I'd love to spend some time with him while he's here," I said, avoiding mentioning the true purpose of the meeting, even though what I said was entirely true.

Vilkas shifted slightly. "Okay," he replied, somewhat reluctantly. "I… I'll see you." With one last look, he turned around and continued on his way to Jorrvaskr.

Upon returning to the Khajiit traders, Ahkari also greeted me – though more formal than how Kharjo did – and gave me a cup of water and some salmon steak. As I was taking a sip of the water, Kharjo said, "That one is a handsome one, isn't he!"

I spluttered, surprised and not sure if I was supposed to laugh. I glanced up at Kharjo – I was sitting while having my meal and he was still standing, watching Vilkas disappear around the bend of the road behind a wall. He turned to face me, grinning, then joined me in my meal.

The sun had just set as I finished my meal and thanked Ahkari. The female Khajiit smiled faintly.

"Ready to learn the first Khajiit courting custom?" Kharjo stood up, extending his clawed hand towards me.

I heard Dro'marash belt a throaty laugh. Feeling slightly embarrassed, I grabbed Kharjo's hand. He pulled me to a stand, and I followed him away from the caravan. We stopped at a clearing not too far away and outside of one of the largest walls of Whiterun, just below Dragonsreach.

Some of the snow from this morning had settled. Feeling grateful that I had brought my cloak with me today, I hugged it around myself. Even though I had my armor on, it still provided extra warmth.

"There are of course more customs, but this one will have you go through three of them. This one has thought about it and deemed that these will be the most appropriate for little S'karthast and her Nord, plus they coincide with the current phase of the moons, waning crescents, almost the start of the new moons, a new start," Kharjo explained.

"Okay," I replied. My arms were folded, hands gripping my elbows. "So, what is this first custom?"

"Claiming a belonging of the potential mate."

I tilted my head and gave Kharjo an "are-you-serious" look. He smiled widely. "And how is this supposed to be done?" I asked.

"Usually with the claws. Like this." Kharjo found a nearby, abandoned chest and dug his claws into one of its planks. He scratched it over and over again in the same area until it had a score of thick claw marks.

"So… you want me to deface one of Vilkas' belongings?!" I exclaimed.

"Not defacing! Claiming," he corrected me, raising a finger like a scholar making a seriously important point. "The item should be, preferably, made of wood. And it should be… significant." His eyes glittered beneath the starlight.

_Oh Akatosh, that look in his eyes… _"Such as?"

"A bed."

I covered my face with one of my hands, fingers against my brow, torn between laughing from the ridiculousness of the idea and embarrassment at what the Nords would think at scratching up the frame of Vilkas' bed. Kharjo stepped up to me and pulled my hand away from my face.

"Little S'karthast should practice on this wooden chest, since her claws are smaller than a full Khajiit's." He indicated the old chest. I looked at him, then walked up to the abandoned thing, taking off my right gauntlet. I spied a relatively unscathed plank and put my fingertips to it.

"Scratch it like how this one did!" Kharjo ordered. I dug my nails into the wood and dragged them across the surface. I succeeded in making visible marks. "More! Make them deep and multiple." Although it took me longer than it did Kharjo, I managed to create a series of scratch marks like the Khajiit did. As I returned to him, I picked at the wood pieces caught beneath my nails.

"Good, good," Kharjo praised me. His face was practically glowing with pride.

On the way back to the trading caravan, I asked him, "Have you ever gone through these customs yourself? Not as 'practice?'"

I think that I caught him off guard as he jerked his head towards me and furrowed his brow. "Ah, um, yes," he answered. "This one completed the courting customs… once before."

Feeling like I shouldn't push the topic further, we came back to the caravan without another word. I bid goodbye to the Khajiit traders, and Kharjo walked with me to Whiterun's gates.

"This one advises for little S'karthast to complete this first custom tonight, as the moons are waning into new. Without the handsome Nord there at the doing, though," Kharjo murmured to me before we parted. I nodded, my mind racing. _Maybe I can get Kodlak to give Vilkas a quick task for the night._

I realized as I entered Jorrvaskr that it must be a couple bells away from midnight now. I silently opened one of the doors and slipped inside. Torvar was sitting at one of the main tables with Ria, the Imperial. He greeted me, raising a flagon.

"Where is Vilkas?" I asked him.

"Uhh… Out at the Skyforge, I think. With Farkas and Kodlak. Helping Eorlund with, um, something," the blond Nord crowed. Ria slapped him about the temple for being so loud. I laughed, partially out of relief, and thanked him.

A minute later found me changing into my nightclothes and putting my cloak, armor, and sword away. I took a deep breath and entered the living quarters' hallway. I glanced around. I believed that Aela was already sleeping in her room across from mine. I crossed the main hallway and entered the small one that connected Vilkas' and Farkas' rooms, parallel to the setup of Aela's and mine. I slowly opened the door on the left, Vilkas'.

To my relief, it _was_ empty. I silently closed the door behind me and approached the bed. I sat on it, still for several heartbeats. Vilkas' scent wreathed around me, and I felt like simply lying down and curling up on the pelt-covered mattress.

But I didn't. I crawled to face the headboard of the bed and sat before it. Then I began my work, digging claw marks into the wood. This proved more difficult than with the old chest. The wood here was newer, stronger. I worked harder at it, creating scratch marks a little longer than my middle finger. My heart began to race as I was clearly aware of the time ticking by.

"A little more," I muttered to myself. When I was finished, I had a set of four, very deep scratch marks, bordered with a score of other, shallower ones. It actually looked a bit… tasteful.

I stopped admiring my work as I faintly heard the door between upstairs and downstairs open. I quickly got off the bed and left the room. No one was in the main hallway yet, but I heard footsteps descending on the stairs. I slipped across the hallway and entered my own room, swiftly shutting the door behind me.

Taking a relieved breath, I slid into my own bed. As I tried drifting to sleep, I subconsciously strained to listen for Vilkas. Before I knew it, though, I had entered a world of peaceful darkness.

**Author's Note: I hope you liked this addition! Please note that any of the "Khajiit courting customs" in this story are entirely my own creation. I have not researched if any such thing has been created by official Tamrielic scholars.**

**Also, I have made a DeviantArt account! Here is the link to the art I made as a cover for this story. I hope you like this too! :) **

** fs71/PRE/i/2012/296/a/9/j_vairi_the_khajiit_by_ **


	16. Accusations and… Snow

Chapter 16 – Accusations and… Snow

I awoke before dawn and got up and ready while everyone else was still asleep. A certain calm enveloped me as I listened to the quiet breathing of the Companions. Hugging my cloak around me, I exited Jorrvaskr. I decided to browse Whiterun before it was bustling with people. The sky was already dense with snow clouds, which were starting to release their fluffy flakes of cold offspring. I stood on the short, stone wall that bordered the front of Jorrvaskr on either side of the stairs and tilted my head back to catch some of the snow on my tongue. The Nord blood sang through my veins, and I felt energized by the winter weather. I hopped off the wall and walked down the stairs. I approached the Gildergreen, the large tree residing at the heart of Whiterun. I put a hand against its trunk and almost sensed the aura of the life force of this tree. I closed my eyes for a moment. Suddenly a black and silver sabre cat romped into my vision. Silver eyes glinting, she released a throaty yowl and tore off after an elk. I snapped open my eyes, suddenly itching to be in my wereform, cutting down victims with my talons and fangs. I found myself hunching over slightly, on the verge of growling – but then I heard a piercing, three-noted yowl.

_Kharjo._ Good. Although it was expected for the caravan to stay for several days, I felt relieved at hearing his call. The memories of last night came flooding back, and, all of a sudden, nervousness cascaded through my blood. _What will Vilkas say? When will I see him today?_ I leaned back against the Gildergreen and tried calming myself. _ I'll just take it as it comes. Right now, though, I can enjoy the dawn._

I slipped a hand into the hidden pocket of my cloak and fingered a handful of gold coins. _I haven't really explored Whiterun yet_, I realized, faintly surprised. _Too occupied with the Companions. Scouring the land free of bandits and… Vilkas and Farkas._ I stood straight and set off with an almost hopping gait.

Whiterun was truly a beautiful little town. It presented a sense of civilized community, and I found the stone walls, paths, and buildings comforting. I gazed up at Dragonsreach, the impressive structure looking over the Hold's center. I faintly thought of the new Dragonborn, wondering what he was like. As I walked by the inn, The Bannered Mare, I heard a bard lightly playing his lute. A soothing melody without lyrics, a morning's song. I clicked my tongue along with the slow beat. People began entering the streets, indifferent to the snow, now drifting down in heavier flakes. I activated my flame spell in my left hand, letting the small fire flicker the snow to Oblivion in quiet sizzles. I chuckled to myself.

"You keep your fancy spells to yourself." I turned my head to see a guard eyeing me up warily – well, it seemed like it, though he was wearing a helmet that covered even his face. I snapped my fingers into a fist to close up the magic flame.

I suppressed the urge to reply sarcastically. "I'm not a mage. This is the only spell I know, and it could be fairly practical. Surely you've seen other non-mages use this or a basic healing spell?"

The helmet stared at me. I pushed on. "In fact, I am a member of the Companions and now part of its highest order, actually. Being mostly Nords, pure magic is seen as a path of weakness. Sure, maybe some of my shield-brethren do not like even the minimal level of magic I use, but I still fight worthily. Very. Worthily."

Silence for a few more moments. "So… you're the second Elf of the Companions? I've seen the Dunmer around. What're you, Altmer?" The voice still sounded uneasy.

I widened my eyes and furrowed my brows, delivering a flaring glare. "I am not a Mer! I have Nord blood in me, thank you very much."

"But your ears…"

"They come from my Kh-" I began when I noticed a group of citizens had gathered to watch us. I froze and gazed around. "Sure, my ears may be pointed like an Elf's, but I _am_ Nord," I said in a low voice, almost growling, and turned around to walk away.

"Wait!"

I trotted off.

"You're J'vairi, the first Dragonborn that came here, aren't you?"

I stopped.

"Half Nord, half… _Khajiit?_"

I faced the guard again. Knowing I could not explain about being a werebeing, I retorted with: "I'm sorry if you have a problem with that." My lips were in a thin line.

"I thought you had… fur… when you first came."

"I've discovered the rest of who I am. Now, if you'll excuse me." I pushed past the guard and, ignoring everyone else around, entered the shop straight before me. Turns out it was Belethor's General Goods.

"EEEEEEVERYTHING'S FOR SALE, MY FRIEND! _Everything_. Seriously. If I had a sister, I'd sell her in a second," said the Breton (Belethor, I assumed) behind the counter in a loud voice. I twitched an ear slightly.

"Thanks," I managed, feeling irritable from the guard. I walked up to the counter and browsed whatever was on its surface. I felt the Breton's gaze on me.

"That looks like quite the valuable cloak you have there."

"Yep."

"I'll give you 670 gold for it."

I glanced up at him. "Are you serious?"

"Of course! It is wonderful. That clasp, too. Ah, beautiful metalwork. And it does match a beautiful woman like you, too."

"If I was willing to sell it, I'd like to get at least 10,000 gold for it," I replied icily.

The Breton shut up. I browsed the shop in silence for about ten minutes. Then, feeling guilty at my cold attitude, I spoke up.

"I'm just browsing. Not sure what I'm looking for, but something small and unique maybe. Do you have any suggestions?"

Feeling obviously relieved, Belethor began suggesting right away. "I have gemstones, soul gems even. Oh, they're lovely to look at if you don't use them for their magical properties. Aaaand…" He emerged from behind the counter and sifted through the shelves in the shop. "A few unique necklaces and circlets. Some books, a troll skull, sabre cat tooth…"

I almost cringed at the last one. "May I see a soul gem?" I asked.

"Yes, yes." He retrieved one of the stones, almost the length of a hand. I held it.

And I was fascinated. Faceted, natural surface, some sides smooth, some rough. Pale, faintly glowing by itself, and reflecting shades of blue, green, and purple. It hummed as if it was alive… like it had a soul.

"That's just a petty soul gem," Belethor explained, "although it is filled with a soul. Probably a mudcrab's." He shrugged.

"It's beautiful…"

"You can have it for 15 gold."

"Really?" I took out the appropriate amount of money from my cloak and handed it to him. Even if I wouldn't be actually using it, I'd love to have it displayed in my room.

"Thank you, ma'am," the Breton crooned. I bid him goodbye and exited the store, slipping the gem into my pocket.

The snow was falling so thickly now, it was already clumping on the ground. I pulled the hood of my cloak over my head and made my way back towards Jorrvaskr. Instead of going inside, I climbed up the stairs to the Skyforge. Eorlund was forging away busily. Catching his eye, I nodded him in greeting. I stood at the edge of the small cliff that the Skyforge was perched upon and faced the building of Jorrvaskr. Stepping onto the short wall bordering the cliff, I mentally calculated if I could jump onto the lower part of the roof that faced me. Yeah. I should be able to.

Taking a ready stance, I shoved myself off the wall with all the power in my legs, launching towards the roof. I landed lightly, clinging to the shingles. From this point, I was able to climb to the higher section of the roof until I was directly atop the building. There, I sat, watching over Whiterun. I looked behind Jorrvaskr into the training courtyard. Farkas was there, obliterating one of the training dummies with a claymore. Ria stepped up to join him, hacking away at another one. I shivered and brushed off the snow that was starting to build up on my shoulders.

"Oh, you could do better than _that_, Ria," the burly Nord chastised. The Imperial glared at him.

"Give her a break, Farkas. Her body mass is half that of yours." I froze as I recognized Vilkas' voice. It came from beneath the awning leading to the courtyard.

Farkas laughed with almost a bark. "I was jesting, of course. Hmm. Tell me, Vilkas, have you seen little Vai around today?"

Caught of guard for a moment, I remained stock still when he mentioned me. Then I had the sense to duck down to where I could not see Farkas, and, hopefully, he could not see me either.

"No…"

"Maybe she's intimidated that there's another Dovahkiin in town."

"Farkas." Vilkas' tone was strained. "I do not believe she would let something like that get to her head."

I heard Farkas put down his two-handed blade and approach Vilkas. "Really?"

Vilkas' voice dropped greatly. "Are you sure _you_ didn't chase her off?" the Nord almost snarled, low enough for Ria not to hear.

"What do you mean?" Farkas' voice dropped to a just as dangerous tone. My heart pounded in my chest.

It took several heartbeats for Vilkas to reply. "Don't you play stupid, Farkas."

"Why not? Everyone thinks that I am, regardless."

"I know how you like to treat females. Only looking after yourself. You…" Vilkas seemed to be searching for the right words. "Please leave J'vairi alone."

"Something _has_ happened between you two, hasn't it?!" Farkas abandoned the quiet guise.

"No," Vilkas immediately replied. I heard him stand up.

"Then why are you so concerned about her?"

"I do not want _you_ harming her! I find your 'hunting' vile!" Ria and now Eorlund were approaching the twins.

"Boys, I don't know what you're arguing about, but you should shut up," the smithy grumbled.

Without thinking, I slipped down the roof to land on the awning. Everyone fell completely silent.

"What was that?" Farkas growled.

"Me." I swung over the edge, gripping the wooden border, and hopped onto the ground. Vilkas appeared startled, and Farkas was merely glaring, eyes seeming Daedric from piercing through the dark warpaint that bordered them.

"Vilkas, Kodlak wants us to search the camp we cleaned up yesterday. He believes it may give us a lead on more bandit organizations of the province," I lied, abruptly turning on my heel and stalking into the building. I snaked down to the living quarters, entering my room. I placed the soul gem on my nightstand and began swiftly pulling on my armor.

A knock at the door. I grabbed Icazstärn.

"J'vairi?"

Vilkas.

"Vai, may I come in?"

As I had finished getting garbed, I nodded, then, remembering that he couldn't see me, said, "Yes."

He peeked in, then fully entered.

I sat on my bed. He sat beside me.

He sighed. "I hope this doesn't make Farkas worse…" I stayed silent, looking at my lap. Vilkas tilted his head to stare at me.

After a moment I said, "I don't really have much input on this. I assume that I need only to avoid him right now."

"I agree…" He moved his hand as if to rest it on my leg, then decided against it. "So… you've, um, left me a present?"

"Oh…" I felt my blood creep to my face.

Leaning closer to me, he murmured to my ear, "It was fairly easy to catch your scent." I hunched my shoulders awkwardly. He smiled. "I'm confused of the motive behind it, though."

I lifted my head and looked at him, my mouth beginning to form in a smirk.

"Well…?" Vilkas looked expectant.

I shrugged.

He sighed, then laughed. "Maybe you'll tell me sometime in the future, then."

"Maybe." I bumped my shoulder to his briefly. He rolled his shoulders.

"So, was that task to search the clear bandit camp real?"

"No… I had to butt in and wanted to get you out."

A faint sigh. "Thanks."

"No. Thank _you_."

He smiled softly at me. Then asked: "Where were you this morning?"

"Walking around town. Um, argued with a guard…"

"About what?"

I recalled the event to him. He seemed to want to laugh.

"It's not funny," I whined. "I'm not a mage, _nor_ an Elf. And it's okay if I don't have fur anymore, right?! Well, at least not in this form."

"You know that it's perfectly okay, Vai."

Something in his tone sent my blood singing. "I know," I whispered.

We sat in a comfortable silence for a little while. "Would you like to stroll around Whiterun for the rest of the day? With me?" Vilkas requested.

I stood up. "I would like that." I took his hand and led him out of my room. At entering the main floor of the building, though, I released my grip on him.

The snow was still falling in great quantity. I gazed skyward.

"I've always enjoyed Skyrim's winter season, regardless of the fewer prey," Vilkas commented.

"I… I'm happy I came here."

A soft breath. "Me too."

We walked in silence, observing the public, the scenery, the weather. I noticed a guard staring in my direction at one point but chose to ignore him. Right now, regardless of the day's events, I felt very… content. As the afternoon grew old, we entered The Bannered Mare. Immediately, I was welcomed with fire-pit warmth, the thick homey scent of fresh roast, and the lilting music of a bard singing and playing his lute. Vilkas led me to the seats at the counter and we ordered a dinner for ourselves. The barmaid behind the counter smiled and brought us a goat roast and leek and potato stew. Needless to say, it was delicious.

"I rarely visited taverns in Cyrodiil," I mentioned to Vilkas. "I absolutely love this atmosphere, though. Mmm…" I half-closed my eyes, savoring everything I was experiencing.

The Nord leaned towards me. "Well, there are plenty of these around Skyrim." He offered me a smile.

"Maybe we shall visit them sometime?"

"Indeed."

I focused on the music coming from the bard – Mikael – as he began a new song.

"_We drink to our youth, to days come and gone_," so went the song_. _"_For the age of aggression is just about done…_"

I realized that it was about the civil war between the Imperials and Stormcloaks – and in the Imperials' favor.

Vilkas huffed beside me. "Of course. Whiterun _is_ an Imperial hold now."

I nodded slightly. Though I was not particularly fond of Imperials at all, I couldn't take a side in this civil war when I have not lived here in Skyrim long enough to decide what I would truly want.

_It must be near sundown any time now_, I thought faintly. _Hmm, Kharjo…_

"Vilkas," I said.

"Hmm?"

"I'm going to meet up with Kharjo tonight."

"Again?" He looked almost exasperated.

I tilted my head slightly. "Yes, again." _Three customs_. "At least for tomorrow evening too."

"Just to spend some time with your… uncle?"

I nodded and offered a smile. "Thank you for understanding."

I could tell that he was thinking, _Well, I didn't say _that… I pretended I couldn't tell. I pushed back the stool I was sitting on and stood up. He rose to a stand also. He paid the barmaid the appropriate amount for the meal and we exited the inn.

Now it was time for him to return to Jorrvaskr and for me to meet up with Kharjo again. I faced Vilkas.

"Thank you, Vilkas. For everything," I told him, feeling wholeheartedly grateful. _Everything_.


	17. My Turn

Chapter 17 – My Turn

Kharjo sprang up to greet me. Like what happened last night, I was offered a dinner meal. I politely declined, since I had already eaten.

"Oh good, this one and little S'karthast can get started right away!" His grin brightly reached his eyes. "The second custom is more complex than the first."

"Let's get started then," I replied – a little eagerly, actually. The elder Khajiit grabbed a few things then led me to the clearing we at last evening. Hmm, I guess that it is quite a good thing we both had strong night vision. Last night was lit by the waning moons and the stars. Tonight was shrouded with the snow clouds of today, and the moons were so thin now that their light barely broke through the clouds. The ground now had a couple inches of snow built upon it.

"How did the bed marking go? Does the handsome Nord know?" Kharjo inquired.

I almost laughed at the Khajiit's use of the word "handsome" again. "Yes," I answered. "Although he does not quite understand why I've done it, and I refuse to tell him. Well, at least for now."

"Ha! Haha!" Kharjo chuckled.

"So… what is this second custom?" I asked when we stopped walking. I tried leaning towards Kharjo, attempting to peer at what he held in his hands. He held them up high. He was about as tall as either Vilkas or Farkas – which meant that I only came up to his lips. Okay, that wasn't too grand of a height difference. Still made it difficult to reach whatever he was concealing from me at the moment…

"Personal piercing," my 'uncle' stated.

_Huh?_

"Little S'karthast will give her potential mate a piercing!"

"That sounds fairly horrid, Kharjo."

The Khajiit furrowed his brow, then thought through his statement again, realizing that it could sound like something along the lines of murder. "Oh, no! No no no. A jewelry piercing. Which are exceedingly common among Khajiit. Including-" he eyed up my ears "-little S'karthast."

"Vilkas has an earring of his own now too," I stated.

"Then add another right beside it."

I imagined how Vilkas would look with two silvery hoops in his right ear. I hummed in appreciation at the image. When I focused on Kharjo again, he laughed good-naturedly.

"Now this," he said, slowly opening his palm and his voice suddenly hushed, "is an earring of Rah's own craft. Brother had given it to this one, and now this one would like to present it to his daughter for this purpose." He dropped the piece of metal into my hand.

It was larger than the one Vilkas had in his ear but not any thicker. It was plain and gleaming. _What if it's silver? _I wondered suddenly, starting to get nervous. Then I remembered. _No. I wear the S'karthast armor, and its metal has not affected _me_ at all. _

"Little Rah knows the basic flame spell, correct?"

"Yes," I answered, slightly surprised at Kharjo calling me by my father's name.

"Good." He grabbed the earring from my palm. I was about to protest when he looped some sort of chord through it and held the object suspended before me. The chord had knots in intervals, which now held the ring in place. "Heat it with the flame," he instructed, "but not so much where it melts. Only softens. Then, carefully mark three or four scratches, similar to last night's, along the inside of the band."

I activated the flame spell in my left hand and held it under the ring at a distance, slowly bringing it closer and closer.

"That's enough!" Kharjo practically barked. I froze my hand. With my right, I extended a clawed index finger and poked the ring. It left a slight mark in the metal.

"Claw marks, not holes," Kharjo warned.

I cautiously ran my claw over the thin width of the inside edge of the earring. A lightly indented streak. I repeated this three more times until I had four parallel, faint marks. I dropped both of my hands to my sides, extinguishing the magic fire.

The ring had quickly cooled back down. Kharjo slipped it off of the chord and handed it to me. I admired my work – well, my father's work too.

"That was the easy part," my uncle commented. You know, since I mentioned it that way to Vilkas, I couldn't stop thinking of Kharjo as my uncle.

"Oh?"

"Oh yes. The actual piercing is more meaningful."

"How so?"

Kharjo pulled out another small object. This one was also made of metal, although it was almost cone-shaped and extremely sharp-looking.

"With this custom," Kharjo explained, "a Khajiit pierces the potential mate with his or her own claw or fang. Usually metal pieces like this are put over the claw or fang if the Khajiit does not want to sharpen his or her claw or fang."

"So what is this piece a cover for?"

"Fang."

I picked it up and examined it. _Extremely_ pointy. The sharp tip was so narrow that it looked like it could become a sliver of metal beneath the skin, like how a bit of a wood railing could slip into the soft flesh of your palm if you run your hand over its surface.

The end opposite of the sliver was hollowed out. I opened my mouth and carefully fastened the cover over my left incisor. It fit perfectly.

"Make sure the tongue doesn't get caught and cut…" Kharjo mused. Then he pulled out a strip of leather. "Here. Test it out on this."

I took the leather and, pulling back my lip, placed the tip of the fang cover on the hide surface. I bit down, and it easily pierced through. When I pulled the leather away from my mouth, I saw that it now had a small, clean hole.

"Wow…" I breathed. I pried the metal cover off my tooth. I slid the ring through the thing hole; the sizes of the hole and the ring's thickness matched completely. I pried the ring out as Kharjo offered me a small pouch to hold both the sharp metal cover and the ring in.

"There is not much bleeding this way, either, if the piercing is through the ear," my uncle said. "Some, but not much at all." I nodded.

We returned to the caravan.

"So, I assume I won't be trying to complete this custom in secret," I laughed.

Kharjo ruffled my hair with a big hand. "Unless you knock the handsome one out first."

I shoved his hand away good-naturedly. "Oh Akatosh, I won't do that."

"Good luck, little Rah," Kharjo wished me as we bid goodbye.

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX x

It was well past midnight when I returned to Jorrvaskr. I slipped into the living quarters. The candles that lit the hallway had shrunk and casted low flames, giving off a comfortable, dim glow.

After removing my armor and getting prepared for the night, I stood before Vilkas' room, dangling from my fingers the pouch containing the metal cover and the ring. The soft, deep breathing of sleep came from Farkas' behind me. I lightly knocked on Vilkas' door.

"Vil-" I started to whisper when the door opened. He was wearing a loose, unbuttoned tunic and some trousers, ready for bed, and had clearly just bathed. His dark hair was damp and slicked back. His metallic eyes shone happily, not quite as menacing when his warpaint was washed off. He took my hand and pulled me inside, silently closing the door after me.

"What're you still doing up?" I asked, my voice almost a whisper.

He shrugged. "I decided to do a few things around Jorrvaskr then soak for a little while."

I offered him a light smile. "Well… I have something for you." Okay. All of this had happened without much thought until now. Now, my heart hammered against my chest.

"Hmm?" He tilted his head slightly to the side. Oh by Ysgramor's beard. He looked like a puppy. Sure, a strong, not-to-mess-with puppy, but an adorable pup nonetheless.

"Sit," I instructed. He sat at the edge of his bed. I dumped out the contents of the small pouch onto my palm. Vilkas was watching almost analytically.

"My turn?" he said.

"Receiving or giving? This time it's _my_ turn to give." I gave him a wolfish grin. Or cat-like. Take your pick.

I stood right in front of him. He looked up at me. "Kharjo has shown me that Khajiit like to pierce one another when it comes to jewelry like this. I… I would like to put this one beside the Skyforge steel one."

"And how do you plan on doing that?" Vilkas' voice was low, gruff.

"Like this…" I fastened the metal cover around my left incisor like before and hopped onto the bed. I sat behind him so that I could easily nip into his right ear. "Do you want to numb it like before?" I murmured, trying not to hit my tongue against the metal sliver tip.

Vilkas shook his head no, ever so slightly.

I shifted closer to him and leaned my head over his right shoulder.

"You might have to get closer, if you're using your… mouth," he said, so quiet that if I lacked Khajiit hearing, I would've had a difficult time hearing him.

I stretched out my legs on either side of him, awkwardly at first, then curled them around his waist. I hugged up against him and, when I made sure I could position my head close enough, thought I heard him faintly sigh.

I placed my left hand on his left arm and my right pressed up against the pelt blankets on the mattress. "Okay, 'ere we go…" Curling back my lip as how I did with the leather strip, I lightly placed the tip of the fang cover onto a spot on Vilkas' earlobe, a little down the flesh from where the Skyforge steel ring rested. When I was sure I had the ideal spot, I bit down, the metal easily sliding through the skin.

The Nord jerked slightly at the initial pierce. I carefully withdrew and removed the cover from my tooth. Leaning to the side without releasing my hold on Vilkas, I placed the metal piece on an end table. A small bead of blood had emerged from the pierce. Without thinking, I cleaned it with my tongue. Vilkas laughed, with the gesture pressing his damp head against mine.

"Now for the easy part…" I held the silver-colored ring in my hand for a moment longer, observing the streaks I had made. I then cautiously eased it apart along the break in the hoop in order to loop it into the hole I had made in Vilkas' earlobe. I slipped it through and fastened it, closing the gap. The gleams of both S'karthast and Skyforge metals were of the same hue. _Exact, unless I can't tell_… The room was as dim – actually, maybe even dimmer – than the main hallway. One lone candle sat on the nightstand.

Tired, I leaned up against the Nord's back, lazily hugging him from behind. I closed my eyes and rested my head against his nape, the damp hair brushing my forehead.

"Vai."

_Mmhmmmnn_.

"Vai, may I see it now?"

_Hmm?_

I realized that I had fallen asleep for a moment. "Oh!" I released Vilkas and sat, my back leaning against the wall. Vilkas stood up and gave me a slightly lopsided smile. He then approached a small square mirror lying atop his wardrobe.

"I like it…" he said, playing with the earring. He then noticed the small, parallel scratch marks. "Yours again?"

I nodded. Being able to watch him like this… Oh, my heart was flaring again. The rings looked as wonderful together as I had imagined.

"Come here," he ordered quietly. I gazed up at him, curious, then complied. As I met him, he wrapped his arms around me in a fierce hug. He lifted me off my feet and I clung to him.

"Thank you," he murmured into my ear. He placed me back down on the floor.

"Thank _you_," I retorted.

He looked astonished for a moment, then said: "Do you need some sleep?"

"No. Maybe. Yes." Exhaustion had hit me. Maybe partially because of relief? _For what… For… _I didn't complete the thought.

Vilkas opened the door then grabbed me, swiping my legs out from under me so that I was cooped up in his arms. One arm beneath my knees, the other hugging my shoulders.

"Why-" I began to protest.

He hushed me. "Everyone else is sleeping. Stay quiet."

He led me straight across the main hallway towards my room. As we entered, I almost protested again in my delirium. He placed me carefully in my own bed, then turned to leave.

"Noo…" I muttered. He stopped. Faced me.

"Yes?"

I sighed, feeling irritated. Vilkas smiled faintly.

"Sleep peacefully, Vai," he murmured. He kissed the tips of his fingers and touched the fingers to my lips. He pulled away.

"Vilkas," I hummed, looking up at him with silver eyes. "_I love you_."

Well, you know, I was practically asleep at that point. As I have mentioned, I was in my own delirium at that point.

Vilkas' eyes widened. "I love you too," he breathed. He bent down and, so lightly, kissed my cheek. Then gave my nose a quick lick. With one more glance, he left my room, closing the door behind him.

Okay, maybe I wasn't so delirious. Sleep enveloped me almost as warm and strong as that Nord's loving embrace. _Almost_.

**Thank you, those who follow my story and those who leave reviews! :) I thought I'd just throw in my thoughts here for a moment... That, at finishing this chapter just before going to bed, I think I'm going to have a fairly nice sleep. :)**


	18. Interlude - Echoes of Innocence

_Interlude _– Echoes of Innocence

_A graying, dark brown Khajiit hunched over his forge with his grandson. They were in the backyard of the grandfather's Cheydinhal home._

"_Good, good, Rahkei," the elder Khajiit rasped as he guided his grandson. "Now pull the metal out. Carefully, though!" he rasped._

_Rahkei hesitantly removed the molten metal from the forge and poured it into a sword mould. It quickly began cooling._

"_When it is _almost_ cooled," the elder Khajiit explained, "we can add etchings for decoration. As how any S'karthast craft is created! As my father has taught me and…" He carefully chose his words for the next phrase. "…since your mother cannot teach you and since your sister does not want anything to do with the art of smithing, I am teaching you the craft of your lineage." Rahkei's mother was the old Khajiit's daughter but had died in giving birth to Rahkei. The male that had provided his seed to create Rahkei and his sister had disappeared shortly before Rahkei's birth._

"_Oh Grandpah, please tell me about your father teaching _you!_" the cub exclaimed, looking away from the cooling metal to stare up at his grandfather with the silver saucers of his eyes. He knew that the answer would lead up to discussing Elsweyr. He has had his grandfather tell him this several dozen times within his seven season-cycles of life._

"_When I was a cub just like you, my parents and I lived in the native Khajiit province of Elsweyr," the old Khajiit rasped._

"_Tell me of Elsweyr!" the little Rahkei demanded. "Of the deserts, of the jungles, of the different Khajiit!"_

_The grandfather chuckled, laugh lines crinkling beneath the short fur on his face. "Vast deserts, Elsweyr has. It was extremely dangerous to venture deep into one, but the sands on the outskirts were warm and comforting. Where there wasn't desert, there was _jungle_. Huge, wild regions with trees to rival those of Valenwood. In either of these areas, several different Khajiit kinds lived. Our family comes from the northeastern edge, bordering Cyrodiil and marked by the outskirts of both deserts and jungles." The Khajiit stopped his talking with a hacking cough. "We had our on forge - an expensive investment, especially in Elsweyr. My father, your Great-Grandpah, taught me the family craft. A forged metal combined of steel, quicksilver, and a tiiiiny bit of ebony ore – for a core of strength – formed into countless items and decorated in stylish claw marks and swirls…"_

_Rahkei had been gazing at his grandfather in awe. The old Khajiit offered a smile, revealing several chipped fangs._

_At remembering the current assignment, the grandfather said, "Oh! We must etch the blade before it cools too much. Do you want to try using your claw as a stylus this time?" The cub nodded eagerly, shaking his unruly dark hair._

"_Careful now," the elder Khajiit murmured. He hovered over his grandson, watching every move._

_The young one was fine, though. _And talented,_ the Khajiit thought. Soon, Rahkei had etched a simple but appealing border around the edges of the blade._

"_Wonderful job," he praised. The cub answered the praise with a priceless smile reaching from ear to ear. They waited several minutes longer for the metal to cool enough to remove from the mould. The grandfather carried the blade and fit it into the hilt they had previously made of dense ancient dragon hide, expensive, cured, and imported from the cold region of Skyrim, far up north. When the sword was finished, he slipped it into a scabbard made of the same dragon hide and decked with S'karthast metal swirls. He handed the sword to the cub._

_Rahkei's eyes were even wider than how they had been before. He vigilantly slipped his hands beneath the sword to gain a grip on it. The old Khajiit released it. A moment of panic was evident across Rahkei's features when the cub underestimated the weight of the weapon and bent under its weight. He mustered up enough strength to hold it high at chest level._

_His grandfather bent down – with some struggle – and licked the cub briefly on the nose. The grandchild replied with a giggle._

"_I am proud of you," the elder Khajiit said. "Remember the family craft and be proud of it yourself, always."_

_Rahkei nodded enthusiastically. "Of course, Grandpah!"_

"_Good." The Khajiit ruffled his grandson's hair with a wrinkled hand. "Let's show your sister now, shall we?" _And hopefully Kh'una won't be Nord-headed about this, _he thought, thinking of Rahkei's older sister, his elder by seventeen season-cycles._

_Kh'una was in the kitchen, preparing a meal for dinner. She noticed her little brother as the cub and his grandfather walked into the latter's home._

"_Oh!" she exclaimed. "What is it you have there, little Rah?" At realizing what it was, she narrowed her eyes slightly. "I'd rather not have any instruments of war in the house," she said in a motherly fashion. The grandfather understood that Kh'una had to take on the role of caretaker for her brother since both of their parents weren't there._

"_Kh'una, remember that this is my house," the elder Khajiit commented, not impolitely though. Kh'una huffed and sternly returned her focus on the dinner preparation, mousey hair loosened from being tied back and strands hanging in disarray. _

"_Go place it down on the couch for now," the grandfather instructed Rahkei. "And don't unsheathe it indoors."_

_xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx_

_It was past midnight, and everyone was tucked in bed. That is, everyone except the elder Khajiit. He gathered something in his arms and quietly entered the room little Rahkei was staying in._

"_Rah," he rasped, "I have something for you."_

"_Wh-who…?" the cub slowly woke up. After focusing his night vision, he easily recognized his grandfather. Rahkei sat up. He yawned and rubbed an eye with his fist. "Is that for me?" he mumbled._

"_Yes, child." The old Khajiit unfolded what he was carrying and spread it out on Rahkei's bed. It was a set of light armor made of dark leathers and bedecked with S'karthast metal pieces and designs. The cub gasped._

"_You made this for me?" he asked, incredulous._

_His grandfather nodded, smiling. "I made it a while ago, when your mother was a cub, with the intention of giving it to her mate. I realized, though, that it might be a tad small for all males but the slightest." _And, _the old one thought, _the mate she did choose ran off shamefully. _"So this armor is definitely too large for you at the moment," he continued, "but in later years you'll fit into it."_

_Rahkei was staring at the armor in admiration. Cuirass and breeches, bracers and gauntlets, boots and shin guards, helmet and cloak. Each piece made with the utmost skill and keenest attention. Suddenly, the cub leapt from the bed and sprang into his grandfather's arms, clinging to him in a hug that enveloped every drop of love the cub was feeling._

I love you, too_, his grandfather thought, crouching down and embracing the cub with just as much love_.

_xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx_

_The next morning was the day Rahkei and Kh'una were to return to their small home in Leyawiin. The elder sister had inherited it after their mother had died. She didn't want to live with their mother's father in Cheydinhal._

I hope only for her own pride with wanting to take care of herself and her brother_, the old Khajiit thought. _Hopefully it's that, rather than a strong distaste for me. I don't think it's _too_ strong…

_The Khajiit had rented a horse-drawn carriage and vouched to drive his grandchildren to their Leyawiin home. Rahkei eagerly packed up his newly forged sword and the special S'karthast armor, although he tried keeping them hidden among his other belongings to reduce any reaction from his elder sister._

"_Hurry up, Rah," Kh'una said impatiently a bell after noon. She was already perched inside the carriage; they had just finished a midday meal and finalized packing. Rahkei had just exited the home, lugging all of his stuff. Their grandfather urged him to the carriage as he secured the door behind the cub. There, all locked up._

_Several moments later found them all prepared to leave. The old Khajiit clambered up into the driver's seat._

"_Little Rahkei," he called out. "Would you like to sit up front with me?"_

"_Yes!" the cub piped up. Without wasting any time, he scrambled out of the enclosed space of the carriage and climbed up into the driver's bench beside his grandfather._

_It was late Sun's Height, and nightfall came as a relief to the hot and clear summer day._

"_Rahkei, can you light a torch for me?" the grandfather asked. The cub complied, struggling a bit to get a spark to alight the torch. He managed it within several dozen heartbeats, though. He held high, cautious to not let the flame catch any part of the carriage or himself, and lit some of the road ahead of the horse._

_Even though the Khajiit had nighteye vision, the elder Khajiit wanted a torch lit to alert any other night travelers that there was another group sharing the road._

_In this case, it would've been better if they hadn't lit a torch at all._

_The carriage horse snorted and stopped abruptly._

_Everyone was silent._

"_Wha-" Rahkei began._

"_Ssshh," his grandfather hissed. He cocked his head, listening for anything unusual._

"_Well, what do we have here?" a melodic voice – male, human – crooned._

_The old Khajiit swiftly slipped from the driver's bench and stood guard. "Show yourself," he rasped._

_Two Imperial guards, garbed in thick, steel plate armor and carrying longswords at their hips came towards the carriage, having emerged from the trees along the side of the road._

"_What is it, officers?" the elder Khajiit said._

"'_Officers?'" one mimicked. "I think we deserve a more… elegant title." He stepped forward and released the horse from its ties to the carriage. He led it away, obviously intending to steal it. The Khajiit stood still, jaw set firmly._

"_I actually disagree." The Khajiit knew immediately that he should not have said that, but he wasn't able to hold back the retort._

"_Grandpah," Kh'una called from inside the carriage. She was now making her way out of it. "What is going-" she froze in mid-step when she noticed the two Imperial men._

"_Hmm, a female," one of them commented. The other was glaring at the grandfather. Without any pretense, he jerked out his sword and struck the old Khajiit in the temple with the hard hilt of the weapon. There was an audible _crunch_, and the Khajiit crumbled to the ground._

"_No!" Rahkei cried out, frozen to his seat with fear. The guard stepped over the old Khajiit's body and focused his attention on Kh'una. She had tried retreating back inside the carriage, but while one Imperial was busy with the grandfather, the other had approached Kh'una, gripping her by the nape and leading her away from the carriage._

"_Let. Go. Of. Me!" the sister shrieked. "Bastard!"_

_The Imperial holding her belted out a fit of laughter. "These Khajiits strike me as immensely amusing," he commented._

"_Khajiit," Kh'una spat. "The plural of Khajiit is still _Khajiit_._"

"_Whatever." He kicked at her legs, making her drop to her knees. The other guard stepped towards the first and muttered something to him. At this, the first pulled Kh'una back to a stand._

"_Before we dispose of you," he almost purred – horridly ironic – as the sister whimpered, "you shall dance."_

"_Yeah, give us a show_ Khajiit."

_And dance she did. _

_Rahkei, still sitting helplessly in the driver's seat, choked back a cry and turned his face away from his sister and the Imperials. While they were distracted, he managed to slide from the seat to the inside of the carriage. There, he retrieved his sword and armor but stayed there for a while, afraid to run._

_After a horrible passage of time waiting inside the carriage, Rahkei heard the thump of a body. He peeked from the hide flaps of the carriage to see his sister, lying dead beside their grandfather. The cub released a brief, piercing wail and immediately regretted it._

_The Imperials began heading towards him._

"_No!" And with that, Rahkei darted from the carriage and ran. And ran. And ran. Almost stumbling and tripping over his heavy load, but there was no way he'd leave his family's craft to those… those… _bastards_, he remembered Kh'una's word. Tears streamed down his cheeks, flattening the fur on his face. The Imperials had allowed him to escape. They've found their pleasure for the night_.

_And so his innocence was lost._

_xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx_

I awoke, sheathed in sweat and panting. I found myself shivering uncontrollably and whimpering. As they had for Rahkei, tears were falling down my face.

_My father. This is his story? Oh, oh…_

_****_

**I have taken the suggestion of including J'vairi's father's past. I'm... actually a bit shaken at writing that last bit. I hope you all enjoy this.**


	19. A Dance of Sunset and Twilight

**This is probably my favorite addition up to date. I'm sure that some of you will love it, and I am entirely thankful for those who are following my story - especially those who are reviewing. (KrystylSky, I very much enjoy hearing your appreciation!) :) Thanks again for everyone who's supporting me with this story.**

Chapter 19 – A Dance of Sunset and Twilight

I had awoken the next morning from fitfully sleeping after waking up last night. The first thing I did was grab the soul gem from my nightstand and hold it to my chest. It gave me a calm feeling, the stone humming against my body. When I emerged from my room, I ate breakfast with Vilkas and didn't show any sign of how what I had witnessed last night has affected me.

This day I ended up spending raiding bandit camps - with Torvar this time, actually. I had the whole day off yesterday and felt a bit guilty from it; even if Skjor hadn't assigned the job to Torvar and me, I would've gone out and done something anyway. The task also kept my mind off of the... scene... I witnessed last night in my dreams.

Torvar was both hilarious and frightening in battle, to simply state. He would taunt the enemies – "_You run like a pregnant cow, you bastard son of a Mer and an Argonian!_" (haha, what?) – as he charged towards them, swinging a Skyforge steel warhammer with the strength and speed I didn't know he possessed. While he would do that, I'd slip ahead and take down some bandits on my own, only to be shortly joined by the drunkard again. A ridiculous smile would emerge from his blood-splattered face – a view quite morbidly amusing.

On the way back to Whiterun, I had instructed him to wash off in a stream. He had stripped unceremoniously and scrubbed off the blood and grime (the latter from who-knows-what) as I avoided looking in even his general direction while I had waited. How he was able to do that in this freezing Evening Star weather was beyond me. The Khajiit part of me shuddered against the cold. The snow on the ground from yesterday had partially melted and froze against itself, making a sheet covering the ground that promised slippery, treacherous footing.

The sun had not begun setting yet when I had returned to Whiterun after spending the day with my drunken shield-brother. Tonight, I would meet up with Kharjo again. _But… why not see if he's ready for me earlier?_

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

"Hi, Ahkari," I greeted the Khajiit. "Where is Kharjo?" I glanced around, my uncle out of sight.

"He is gathering some salmon from the stream," the caravan leader rasped. "He should be back soon."

"Thank you." I sat down on the ground beside her. "How have sales been this time around?"

"Decent. Better than usual," Ahkari answered. I realized that this was the first time I've held a conversation alone with her. She now held my gaze with a slightly amused look. "How has this one's time with Kharjo been?"

"What?" Caught off guard, I quickly said, "Nothing's going on between us. I mean, well, he's practically my uncle."

"Oh, Khajiit knows that. He's been mentoring you, though, hasn't he?"

I nodded. She replied with a smile.

"Khajiit wishes this one luck with the courtship," she stated.

"Thank you," I said quietly. "It has been going… well… so far." Without meaning to, my lips turned in a smile.

A warm hand settled atop my head. "Hello, little Rah!"

The use of that nickname sent shivers through my body as the image of my father as a cub returned to my mind. I shook the vision away and tilted my head back to look up at Kharjo.

"Hello, Kharjo."

"Little S'karthast is here early," he commented. "Very good, because this last custom needs more practice time."

"Practice?" I echoed.

"Come." He offered me a hand and pulled me to a stand.

A minute later and I was following him at a quick pace. He was carrying a bundle in his arms. I eyed it up.

"Where are we going?" I demanded after a quarter of a bell of traveling, crunching through the icy snow. The sun began setting now.

"Shush," he said. "Almost there."

He had led me to a cave. I scrutinized the cavern. Why had Kharjo brought me here? He beckoned me to follow after him inside.

After winding through a brief, narrow tunnel, the cave opened up to a vast, gaping cavern. The natural stone walls reached dozens of men high to meet up with not a ceiling, but open sky. The cavern floor itself was made up of ledges and slopes, covered in grass and small plants. Relatively small – about two men high – trees bordered the rock walls, green and leafy. The temperature was that of a night in the springtime, warm enough to make me shrug off my cloak. A stream of clean water trickled from the top of the cavern, supplying a steady current that ran through some of the outcroppings of grass-covered stone. Moths and dragonflies flitted through the air. My neck began to ache from straining it to take in the scenery.

"How have you come across a place like this?" I breathed.

Kharjo had been watching my reaction to the cave. "One can find many beauties while exploring, little Rah," he said gently. He stepped up to me and pushed the bundle he had been carrying into my arms. "Here, change out of the armor and put this on."

I looked down at it. It was an article of clothing, dark purple in color and as soft and shimmering as silk. I lifted it to observe its full length, seeing that it was a dress. I raised an eyebrow and stared at Kharjo.

"This one won't look!" he assured, raising two hands.

_What is this last custom?_ I pondered as I walked further into the cavern, locating a place to get changed. Ah, there. A dip in the floor between a high ledge and the cave's wall.

I had never worn a dress before. My legs felt awfully vulnerable, but at least the silk tumbled down to the ground. Well, at my backside it did. At the front it was cut shorter to my shins. The top was cut low, revealing much of the base of my neck. My metal necklace glinted. The edges of the neckline were finished with lavender-colored, gossamer strips of cloth. Wisping sleeves that trailed from my arms were made of the same shimmering material. I returned to Kharjo at the center of the cavern on a clearing of plush grass underfoot and dropped my armor beside him. He had removed his armor in favor of the simple clothing of a loosely knitted shirt and tan linens.

"There is no way this cannot go perfectly," Kharjo mused, almost to himself. "This potential mate will not be able to resist…"

"Kharjo," I said.

He snapped his focus to my face. "Hmm?"

"What is this last custom?"

"A dance."

I widened my eyes. "I can't dance!" I exclaimed. The only time I ever have was when I was a little cub and pranced around the house with my Khajiit mother or – rarely – my father.

"If one can battle, one can dance," my uncle refuted sternly. "Now, since the partner will be unsuspecting of this custom, little S'karthast must not rely on the handsome Nord but rather lead him into and guide him through the dance herself. Like this."

Suddenly the Khajiit stepped right before me, within inches of my body. Then he dipped and began twisting and turning, sliding and whisking, around me. He grabbed my hands in his and pulled me with him, skillfully guiding my movements with his dance. He released me again and finished with a final cycle of arching lithely around me. He stopped in a crouch, bending his head over in a bow, panting faintly.

"That, is a Khajiiti courting dance," he breathed. "Every one is different, since no moment is exactly the same. This one must show little S'karthast how to craft her own, though."

"That was amazing," I replied, fascinated at how gracefully, but somehow fiercely at the same time, Kharjo had moved. The Khajiit rose to a stand.

"Does the little one," he said, "know a basic destruction spell? Preferably fire."

"Yes, that is the only one I know." I wondered at where this would lead now.

"Good. Flames are the best to accompany a dance that matches its personality so much. And," he added, "fire brings out the colors of that dress so well."

_What if I end up catching myself on fire?_ I thought, nervousness creeping inside me._ Or worse, Vilkas?!_

Kharjo interrupted my panicky thoughts. "This one will teach how to conduct a courting dance perfectly until any spell is used," he stated. "Starting now."

It was actually easier than I thought. Kharjo was correct; if I could battle, I could dance. The fluid and passionate movements came to me more naturally than I thought possible. The silken dress was simple to maneuver in and allowed me practically free reign of motion. The Khajiit guided me to better piece together my dance and transition between movements. We even practiced together, each of us contributing to the dance. He then let me take it on my own, guiding him along as I am to Vilkas later on. A bell easily passed, possibly two. Regardless, it felt like not long after Kharjo had me practicing with the flame spell. It was to be used in thin streaks and brief bursts, enhancing my movements but not overpowering them. The firelight reflected brilliantly off my dress. I was alive with the colors of sunset and twilight, the reds, oranges, and purples, along with my silver eyes and dark hair.

"It is time." Kharjo and I stopped practicing. Instead of changing back into my armor, I hugged my cloak around myself. My uncle lightly placed his hands on either side of my face. "This is the final, most important, courting custom. Little S'k – _you _– have done well. This one has strong faith in _you_ and is proud." He licked my nose.

He surprised me at directly using "you" instead of addressing me in third person. I gazed into his blue-green eyes. And realized that he seemed now like a father to me. Instead of simply licking his nose, I threw my arms around him in a tight hug.

"Thank you for so much," I said against his shirt.

"Very welcome. Very welcome…"

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

The only piece of armor I wore on the way back to Jorrvaskr was my boots. Other than that, I kept my cloak tightly wrapped around me, concealing the dress of the custom. I estimated that it was about two bells after sundown – not too late. Upon entering the building, I found Vilkas seated at the dinner table.

"Follow me, and don't bother about any armor," I instructed him. He was in his casual light clothes. Good enough for tonight. He did not question me aloud, though I could see it in his eyes.

Kharjo had had me memorize the location of the wondrous cave. I halted at its entrance to give Vilkas a knowing smile. He cocked his head to the side, the question still burning in his gaze. I beckoned him to follow me inside.

His initial reaction was similar to that of mine. I led him to the grass in the center where Kharjo and I had practiced, and unfolded my cloak, dropping it to the ground. I kicked off my boots and motioned for the Nord to do the same.

We stood facing each other, barefooted and in our respective light clothing. He seemed to want to speak but couldn't, his voice caught in his throat. Bright starlight flickered from above through thin clouds, and, very slowly, light snowflakes drifted into the cavern. I listened to the faint trickle of water, the almost silent flutter of moth wings, and the quickening breathing of the man across from me.

And so I began to dance.

Without thinking, without letting thoughts of him distract me, I twisted around Vilkas, brushing up against him. I dipped and twined around him, trailing thin flames from my fingertips. The light snowfall sizzled when it touched my flame but brilliantly reflected the fiery light otherwise, looking like a multitude of miniscule spirits. The firelight reflected in his eyes and against my dress. He turned to my movements, watching me. I backed up several strides, then leapt towards him. He automatically reacted by catching me as I slipped into his arms. I ducked away and continued my trailing around him. I suddenly shifted directions and grasped his rough hands in mine. I pulled him with me, leading him to move with my movements, to learn how I maneuvered. He briefly surprised me when he began spinning with me, darting back and forth with intensity and rhythm.

"Vilkas," I gasped, continuing the dance, now heated more than my flames. He met my call with fierce eyes. "These three customs," I said, fitting the words between movements. Our motions rivaled and alternated with each other's, seemingly transitioning to a battle, in a sense. "They're for _courting_." My heart pounded with the beat of the dance. We tore up the grass beneath our toes and twined and twisted through each other's limbs. "Vilkas, will you be my mate?"

The Nord suddenly spun around, rearing in the dance, and leapt at me. I dipped beneath him as he grabbed my shoulders and we rolled together on the lush floor of the cavern. We gradually slowed to a stop, he looming above me.

"Yes." And with that, he tilted his head down towards me. He licked my nose playfully and then brought his mouth to mine. Caught in the kiss, I wrapped my arms around him and dragged him closer to me. We began rolling again somehow, and I ended up over him this time.

Subconsciously, a sabre cat yowled in my mind. A low growl emerged from my throat as I kissed and kissed. My growl became louder, and I realized that Vilkas had joined in. He flipped me over again and I hooked myself around him.

Suddenly our clothes were strewn over the ground and our beast forms had taken over. Wolf and cat tackled each other, heatedly but not maliciously. I leapt around our mini paradise, flicking my tail and taunting the werewolf to come after me. He bounded in my direction, quickly advancing. After running away from him for a few moments, I changed direction abruptly and crashed into him. We tumbled down a sloped outcropping, pawing at each other. I nipped his shoulder and slipped away from him before he could return the act.

_Oh no you don't!_ his voice shouted through my head. I released a laughing yowl as he tackled me to the ground. He bit my ear lightly then licked my nape.

We continued the dance of the beasts until the early hours of the morning, when, exhausted, I flopped onto my side beside the base of one of the outcroppings. Wolf-Vilkas joined me, lying behind me and against my back. We slipped back into our human forms, and my eyes were already closed. I felt Vilkas drape an arm across my waist and tuck my head beneath his chin. I curled up in a fetal position, back against his chest, and listened to his slowing breathing.

_He is mine now_, I thought faintly. _And I am his_. _And I am wholly content with this._

"Tomorrow." Vilkas' soft voice startled me fully awake for another moment, his accent thicker than usual. "Tomorrow I shall propose to you in the way of the Nord, little Khajiit." I felt him shift his head and lightly bite my neck, a last act of playfulness. He then repositioned his head back to how it was before. He hugged me tightly to him.

Breathing as one, we fell to sleep with only the stars and faint snowfall watching over us.


	20. Decisions

**Again, I am greatly appreciative of the followers of this story and all of the reviews! Thank you!**

**Also, keep in mind that the Khajiit courting customs in this story are entirely my creation. I'm not even sure if the creators of The Elder Scrolls have come up with such Khajiit customs.**

**One more thing I'd like to mention: I actually had the urge to consult Vilkas in real life. Like, seriously, as if he was real. It was one of the strangest but coolest feelings. O.o**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter 20 – Decisions

I awoke when sunlight began trickling through the top of the cave. I opened my eyes and found myself curled up against Vilkas, now facing him. My head rested upon his chest, and, by the pattern of his breathing, I could tell that he was still asleep.

Reminiscing upon the events of last night brought a blush to my cheeks. _We've really done that,_ I thought. _And now, here I am, snuggled up against him._ My hand was resting on his stomach. I curled up my fingers as I shifted even closer to him. Still sleeping, he pulled me closer with an arm hugging around my shoulders.

_Everything feels... right._

I closed my eyes again.

And saw Farkas in my mind, so vividly that it seemed like he was actually standing there before me. His eyes were chips of ice, and his hands curled as if he wanted to wrap them around my throat. He suddenly reared, shifting into wolf form, and charged straight at me, talons extended and several-inch-long fangs bared-

Vilkas gasped sharply beside me. I realized that I had dug my nails into the softer flesh of his stomach. I quickly released the grip and noticed that I drew a trickle of blood. I rolled away from him.

Vilkas rolled onto his side, head pillowed on his arm, and looked at me. His hair was all ruffled. "Good morning to you too," he said quietly, eyes half-closed.

"Sorry about that," I said, eyes trailing to his stomach. He rolled towards me until he was right up against me.

"It's fine," he breathed, lightly kissing me on the lips. I returned the favor, enjoying the feel of the scruff along his jaw as it brushed against me.

"No… It's not… I had seen Farkas." I shivered.

"What?" Vilkas sat up.

"No, not like that," I quickly said, sitting up too. I hugged my arms around myself; I realized that we hadn't dressed again after shifting out of our beast forms. "In my vision when my eyes were closed. He… was angry." Vilkas noted how I positioned my arms and stood up to retrieve my clothes and cloak. Focusing on his face, I thanked him as he returned the items to me. He then retrieved his own clothes and pulled them on. I slipped on mine then draped my cloak over myself.

"Farkas… is going to have to deal with it," Vilkas said, slightly heated. "Or, I will make him." He sat down again and rubbed his fists to his temples. "I almost lost it last night," he said after several heartbeats of silence.

"'Lost it?'" I echoed.

He dropped his hands and looked at me. He crawled closer and sat right before me, so near that our legs were touching. "Control," he answered. "The beast blood… It almost completely took over. I used all of my willpower to suppress the urge to… harm you."

"Harm me? But you wouldn't do that…" I grabbed one of his hands and held it in both of mine on my lap.

He glanced down at our hands and smiled faintly. "Beasts are rougher in their ways. I just... I'd rather not have the beast blood at all."

_Oh…_

Personally, remembering last night, I enjoyed how the dance had turned to one of the beasts. Raw and powerful, natural…

"It's more than just not controlling myself," he mused. "Kodlak says that we can never go to Sovngarde, as long as we have the beast blood. Instead, we go to Hircine's Hunting Grounds for eternity." Hircine, the Daedric Lord of the Hunt, father of the werebeasts. "But, I don't want to ponder this now." He took a deep breath and looked me directly in the eyes. He rose to a stand, pulling me with him.

He brought me to him and locked his arms around me. After a little while, he murmured, "You deserve someone so much more than Farkas."

"Someone like you?" I breathed against his neck.

I felt his laugh. He ran his fingers lightly through my hair. "His values towards females are too… bestial," he said, obviously feeling at a lack of word. From what I understood, though, the word did fit. "I've never really shown interest in anyone before," he continued. "Never fell to temptations, knowing no one was for me. Until you came, Vai. Even when you appeared fully Khajiit, I knew there was _something_ that pulled me towards you. When we went off on that task together was when I realize _what_ that something was." He paused. "And I couldn't stop thinking about you since."

I pulled back slightly to look up at him. He was smiling, and, I realized, I was too. I reached up and toyed with his dark, shoulder-length hair.

"I'll be blunt here," I said, feeling slightly embarrassed but pressed on regardless. "When I first became a shield-sister of the Companions, I did find myself drawn to you… and Farkas. He was first, actually." Before Vilkas could look pained, I hurriedly explained, "But probably because he was the first to openly accept me. Honestly, Mister, you were a bit cold and stubborn in the beginning."

"Aren't I always?" the Nord, _my_ Nord said, with a mock cocky attitude. I could tell that he was internally assuring himself that me being drawn to Farkas first did not mean much.

"Oh hush. You and I know that's not true." I placed my hands on either side of his face. "The more I got to know Farkas, the more I became uneasy around him. Then, as you said, when we went on that quest together, when I rode on your back…" I tugged on his hair playfully, remembering how I had clung to his wolf's fur. "Kharjo also helped me realize. Gods, that Khajiit has been a wondrous help."

"I'm sure." Vilkas bent his head and nuzzled his nose to mine. I laughed - stupidly, I admit - and Vilkas seems to have found it adorable. He swept me off my feet, and, with an arm beneath my knees and the other holding my shoulders, he carried me. "It's about time we return to Jorrvaskr before anyone misses us, eh?" he said teasingly, his accent lilting wonderfully.

"Fine. Even though I don't really feel like leaving, and I know you don't either," I said stubbornly. "And I _can_ walk."

"Are you sure, little lass?" He grinned down at me.

"Yes," I stated. "But... I don't mind staying in your arms for a little while longer." With that, he laughed and bent down – as I reached up – to kiss me.

xXxXxXxXx

It was midday when we returned to Jorrvaskr. Only Skjor was inside when we entered. He raised his eyebrows at us.

"Hello," I said awkwardly. Skjor stared knowingly for a few more moments, then turned away and began adjusting his gauntlets. I looked at Vilkas. He shrugged and then led me to the living quarters.

"Stay here," he told me in the main hallway. Skjor seemed to be the only one left in the building, save the woman who stayed around and cleaned up the place – although she was upstairs also. I sat down at one of the long, wooden tables and began nibbling at some food as Vilkas whisked into his room.

He returned shortly later, grinning. I rose to stand before him.

"Are you aware," he said, holding his hands behind his back, "of how marriage is done in Skyrim?"

"Not really," I admitted. _Well, not at all_.

He brought his hands in front, holding a chain with a large, elaborate cross- and circle-designed pendant attached to it. _The one I saw in a dream…_

"This," he explained, "is an amulet of Mara." He looped it around his neck. "A Nord wears it when he wants to show that he is… available." He tilted his head slightly while saying that last word, looking almost puppy-like. I smiled.

"Oh, so you're 'available?'" I said playfully.

"Why, yes. I am." He bore his eyes into me. "Are you interested in me?"

I held his gaze, noting the seriousness in his tone. "Of course."

He smiled and grabbed a hold of my hands in each of his. "J'vairi S'karthast, will you marry me?"

I gave his hands a reassuring squeeze. "Yes, Vilkas of the Companions, I will."

His smile seemed to stretch from ear to ear. He pulled me into a hug, which I eagerly returned.

"So," I said. "I don't have to wear one of those fancy amulets?"

He laughed. "Oh, as long as one person wears one to show off that he is single. And a person that is interested would bring it up, as how you conveniently did."

It was my turn to chuckle. "Well, that worked out, didn't it?"

"Indeed, it did." He kissed my head. "We'll need to arrange a marriage at the Temple of Mara."

"Where is that?" I asked.

"In the city of Riften, southeast of here."

"Maybe we can ask to go clear up some enemies in that hold–"

"–The Rift."

"Okay, the Rift hold. Then we can schedule the… marriage–" I smiled at the word "–with the temple." I pulled back from the hug to talk directly to him but grabbed a hold of his hands again.

"Sounds like a great plan."

"And after that," I said, rubbing my thumbs over his hands, "we can tell everyone."

A grin. "Of course."

I looked up at him and was about to reach up to kiss his jaw line – when I heard the door that led to the living quarters open. Heavy footsteps thundered down. Farkas.

He froze when he saw us, eyes ice-cold. He then seemed to shake it off – or at least try to. "Where have you two been?" he demanded harshly. Without waiting for an answer, he barked, "Ria and Njada are dead."

The only other females besides Aela and myself. "How?" I asked, confused.

"Kodlak is upstairs. Come." And with that he turned around and stomped back upstairs. I looked at Vilkas. He was staring off after his brother, his mouth in a firm line and his brow furrowed. He fumbled with the amulet of Mara around his neck and stuffed it in a pouch hooked at his waist. Then he followed Farkas with me trailing behind.

Farkas, Kodlak, Skjor, and Aela were all gathered around the large fire pit that dominated this floor, consulting with each other. As one, they looked at us.

Kodlak addressed Vilkas and me. "Good, you're here. Ria and Njada were killed last night. Yesterday afternoon, they went on a quest to clear out bandits, but, as it turns out, the nest was full of Silver Hand, not bandits. Recognizing that they were Companions and that they, the Silver Hand, do not know that–" he paused and made sure that everyone in the room were of the Circle (the housekeeper was in one of the side bedrooms of upstairs) "–not all of us have the beast blood. So they slaughtered the two women. This morning we had realized that they should have returned by then, so Aela, Farkas, and myself went to investigate – and, well, we found out what had happened."

"And slaughtered the Silver Hand there," Farkas practically snarled.

Kodlak gave the man a wary look, almost… sad.

"We've retrieved the bodies," Kodlak continued, "and we're going to hold a funeral up at the Skyforge tonight."

"Then," Aela said, "we need to work on destroying the Silver Hand… permanently."

_I wonder if there are any Silver Hand in the Rift._ Immediately after I thought that, I felt immensely guilty at thinking about Vilkas and myself over the two dead Companions. _But... I barely knew them. Especially Njada, and Ria seemed to merely ignore me._

_Don't think negative of the dead._

"At least they are going to Sovngarde," Vilkas muttered beside me, pulling me from my thoughts. I saw that everyone had dispersed. Farkas and Aela were eagerly discussing battle strategies, and Kodlak and Skjor were huddled together, talking heatedly but at low tones.

_I guess that is good that they're going to Sovngarde then, isn't it? The deathplace of a "true Nord," as I've been told._ I put my hand on Vilkas' arm lightly and walked over to Farkas and Aela. Well, mostly Aela. I'd rather avoid Farkas outside of official Companions business.

Aela looked up. "When we were out today, we found a map that displays numerous Silver Hand camps throughout Skyrim. Farkas and I want to assign a hold per two shield-siblings. We've actually cleared out most in the Whiterun Hold as of now, which leaves us Hjaalmarch, the Falkreath Hold, Eastmarch, and the Rift."

"Aela and I want to clean up Eastmarch," Farkas growled. "It seems to be the heaviest in Silver Hand camps. Torvar and Athis can take on Hjaalmarch – that hold has the least amount, and honestly, I don't think they could take on much more," he added bluntly.

_Well, nice way of having faith in your fellow shield-brothers_, I thought disapprovingly.

"Neither Kodlak or Skjor have a preference. So," Aela added, "your pick."

"Vai and I will pair up," Vilkas stated beside me. His arms were folded.

"And… how about the Rift?" I suggested as if it didn't mean much. I did not want to seem eager at all.

"Sure." Vilkas was playing along with my tone. I smiled inwardly.

"It's all decided then," Farkas said. At the moment, Kodlak and Skjor were approaching us. "Harbinger," Farkas addressed, "are you and Skjor fine with the Falkreath Hold?"

"Yes, yes," the Harbinger answered almost tiredly. "We can get started tomorrow."

Farkas nodded and told him of the specific hold assignations. Kodlak added that he actually preferred us all to get as much done tomorrow.

After Kodlak, Skjor, and Farkas left to prepare Ria's and Njada's bodies, I studied the Silver Hand map.

It looks like there are two major nests to scour from the Rift. One was a fort called Faldar's Tooth, perched at the northern edge of a major lake directly west of the city of Riften. Another fort was Treva's Watch, farther west past Faldar's Tooth. I noticed Vilkas looking over my shoulder.

"We could do this," I told him.

He chuckled grimly. "Of course."

Aela was watching us.

A few moments later, Vilkas decided to join the other men in preparing the funeral.

"You and Vilkas, huh?" Aela stated simply, watching the Nord man leave the building.

"Hmm?" I occupied myself with further studying the map.

She sighed but not in an irritated matter. Rather, it seemed a little motherly. Or older-sisterly. "It's a bit obvious, at least to me. Especially," she added, smiling teasingly as I looked up, "since Vilkas has never shown any attention to someone like this before."

I gave in. "So he's said. It's… hard to believe, though." I ran my fingers through my hair.

"Believe it," she stated frankly. "He usually avoids any newcomers, especially females. You are obviously something special."

I couldn't help smiling, and I thanked her in a quiet voice.

"No need to thank me," my shield-sister said.

We returned to observing the map in silence. Then, I had to ask. "Aela, you and Farkas… Well, what-"

"That was once, several years ago," she cut me off. "Granted, he is an excellent partner – but that is physically only." I felt my face grow warm at that. Sensing my awkwardness, she continued. "He tried pushing dominance a bit too much for my liking, and, well, I pushed him in the right line and he hasn't bothered me ever since.

"If you haven't noticed, he's a bit more _open_ than Vilkas," she added. "Granted, some women like that. I can tell you're not one of those women, though, and I see that Vilkas is a very appropriate match for you."

I was about to thank her again but caught myself when I remembered her not wanting any thanks. Instead I simply said, "I know."

She offered me a smile. "Come on, let us pay tribute to our fallen shield-sisters."

The funeral went by quietly. It was fairly mild this evening compared to the previous nights, and the sky was clear and sparkling with millions of stars. By this time, Torvar and Athis had returned from their day's journeys and joined us, along with Eorlund, who had helped arrange the funeral. A wooden pyre had been arranged _within_ the Skyforge, and atop of it were the attended to bodies of Ria and Njada, side-by-side. The pyre was slowly burning.

Kodlak, Skjor, and Aela delivered brief speeches of tribute as we watched the Skyforge, fueled by Eorlund, gradually consume Ria's and Njada's mortal remains as to leave no more absolute ties to the mortal realm. Now they could fight, sing, and feast in Sovngarde in complete peace.

Tomorrow would present to me two tasks to complete. One, avenge the fallen Companions by slaying Silver Hand. Two, arrange a marriage in Riften. Both to be done with the Nord, my Nord, Vilkas.


	21. Interlude - Little Thief

**I'm really enjoying writing these interlude parts. I hope everyone likes learning about Rahkei. It also presents some TES IV: Oblivion nostalgia! :) OH AND I'M FINALLY AT 50k+ WORDS! :D**_  
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_Interlude – _Little Thief

_Rahkei had run away from the dreadful event that night. He ran north for hours, ignoring his screaming muscles, just wanting to get away. Just before dawn broke across the horizon, he returned to Cheydinhal. He slipped into the city and found his grandfather's home._

_Dropping his sword and armor, including the cloak he had hastily worn over his shoulders, he took a lockpick he had always kept hidden with him. With it, he began fumbling at the front door, still catching up on breath from the long run. The lockpick broke and he uttered a curse. Biting his lower lip and fighting back tears, he tried fishing the half of the lockpick stuck in the mechanism. He stuck his index claw in the small hole and managed to wiggle the small metal rod around._

"_STOP! You're violating the law!"_

_The young cub jumped, snapping his claw in half. Releasing a stream of curses he had learned from his sister, he pulled his hand away from the door's lock. Stomping towards him was a dawn patrol guard, holding a torch._

_With a yelp, Rahkei bolted in the opposite direction of the guard._

"_Oh no you don't!" the guard shouted, running after the Khajiit. He quickly gained upon the cub. He grasped his nape and jerked him aside._

"_Getting familiar with lockpicking, eh?" the guard growled. "Let me just tell you that such 'skills' usually – well, always – come with consequences." He began leading the cub towards the city's jail._

"_No!" Rahkei hissed, kicking out stubbornly. "Let me go!" The guard lifted him by the back of his shirt and shook him. The little Khajiit whimpered and folded his ears flat against his head._

"_That's more like it," the guard sneered. The jail was connected to the guards' barracks. Upon entering the building, fellow guards approached curiously._

"_Got yourself a new pet, Geoff"" one asked, barking a laugh._

"_Ha ha, very funny," the first, Geoff, replied. "But no. This little whelp was trying to break into someone's home. And I plan on sentencing him the appropriate punishment-"_

"_The lad's only, what, six years of age?!" another guard exclaimed, eyeing up Rahkei._

"_As I was _saying_," Geoff continued, "_regardless_ of his age, he deserves punishment."_

"_No I don't," Rahkei whined, keeping his head down._

"_Shut up, you!" Geoff yelled. With that, he dragged the cub through the barracks and into the main hallway of the jail. He opened up the gate to one of the cells and tossed Rahkei in, quickly shutting and locking the gate behind him. The guard turned around._

"_Filthy cats," he muttered as he walked off, dangling the keys from his fingers._

_Rahkei stared off after the guard, and, when the man was almost out of site, the cub stuck his tongue out defiantly._

_When he heard the door shut, he slumped to the floor and put his head in his hands._

"_Hey, hey cat," a raspy voice – distinctively male – called out from the shadows of the cell. _

_Rahkei jumped and backed up against the gate. "Khajiit. Not cat. And… who're you?" he demanded._

_The voice coughed, and after a few moments, Rahkei realized it was laughing. "Oh, I am just a common old thief that is spending his thirty-sixth time in the poky. It's really not too bad, as long as yer're not of particular interest to any of the guards. Seeing yer're male, though, yer're probably fine…" The voice coughed again. "Or maybe they might have interest in yer pelt, or yer braids…"_

_The Khajiit cub subconsciously grabbed a hold of the dark braids of his hair. "Show yourself," he said weakly._

_The thief clambered from the shadows into the sliver of light coming from the window along the ceiling. It was an old human – Imperial or Nord, Rahkei couldn't tell – with gray wisps of hair and face full of wrinkled folds. He was scrawny, skin hanging off bones like loose bags, and his eyes… oh, his eyes frightened Rahkei._

_One of the eyes was filmy but relatively normal, the white part stained yellow and the color around the pupil was a pale green or blue. The other eye was a mass of eggshell white, seemingly merely patched together. Around that eye was a grotesque collection of folded scar tissue._

_The old thief noticed the Khajiit staring. He pointed to the ravaged eye. "Ran straight into the corner of a hardwood dresser when escaping on a job," he explained. He suddenly picked his voice up. "Out of all things, _furniture!_" He stood up. Rahkei tried stepping back only to find the gate still at his back. "I was ridiculed, of course. Actually, meself did most of the ridiculing." He began muttering to himself._

"_I don't deserve to be in here," the Khajiit cub murmured._

_The old man interrupted his own mumbling. "Huh? Whassat yah say?"_

"_I was trying to enter my gr-" He stopped himself and slid to the floor. "Grandpah's home…" he whispered._

_The scrawny thief scuttled towards Rahkei, and it took all the cub's willpower to not recoil from the putrid, old man. The thief fumbled with the skimpy folds of cloth around his body and conjured a lockpick._

_The man held the piece of metal to Rahkei and winked his sickly eye. "I always manage to smuggle one of these babies with me whenever I get caught, so I usually escape. I'm willing to help get yah out this time, though, little kitty." The cub stared at him, brow ridges raised. He then looked at the lockpick in the man's bony hand and reached out for it._

_The man swiped his hand away. "But fer a price!" he barked. Rahkei pressed his ears back against his skull. "Fer a price," the thief repeated. He lifted his empty hand and grabbed one of the cub's braids. Rahkei wished he could get far away from this disgusting man, but he stayed put. "Only a braid," the old man continued. "The price is only one of these lovely, delicate braids. Once I have one, I could lead yah out of here." _

_The cub nodded numbly. "GOOD!" the thief yelled. Rahkei pressed his ears more firmly to his head and his whiskers were sticking out, alert. The old man scrambled back towards the shadows of the cell and returned a moment later with a tarnished butter knife. Rahkei shut his eyes as the man grasped one of his braids and began sawing at it with the small knife. Soon, he felt the hair give way to the man._

"_Ahh, so beautiful," the old thief murmured, staring at the braid in his palms. He then tucked it away and stood up. "Come, we have work to do, cat-kitty!" _

"_WHAT IN _OBLIVION_ IS GOING ON DOWN THERE?!"_

_The old man recoiled back into the shadows as Rahkei pressed himself against the grimy stone wall. Two guards thundered down into the jail. One held a sword arm ready and observed the Khajiit cub, then peered into the shadows of the cell. The other stood back with his arms folded._

"_Has Orsley the Old acquainted himself with you yet?" the guard with the folded arms snickered to Rahkei. "I'd watch out, little cat, because sometimes the sick old thief gets a little _too sick_, if you could tell what I mean." With that, the guard turned on his heel and stomped out of the jail. The other one quickly followed, glancing back uncertainly. _

_Rahkei slowly turned to look at the thief, Orsley, in the shadows. Orsley climbed out. "Ready?" he asked as if nothing had happened. The Khajiit nodded briskly without any thought. The old man pushed him aside and began fumbling at the gate with the lone lockpick. _

_The Khajiit cub looked around nervously as Orsley worked the lock. After a time that seemed a bit too long to Rahkei, the lock opened with a satisfying click. Orsley beckoned the cub to follow him as he silently opened the gate. Rahkei immediately dropped to a crouch and tagged along._

_Instead of going up the main hallway of the jail that opened up to the guard barracks, Orsley went further into the jail. He entered a battered, ancient cell that was actually the last one on the left. Its gate was ajar and he slipped inside._

"_Not many fools know of the secret passage out," Orsley explained in a rasping whisper. Rahkei followed him inside the ancient cell. The old thief disappeared amongst the thick shadows of the cell, dragging the cub by the hand so that he was along side him. He led Rahkei through a narrow gap that was within the shadowy walls. It revealed a cave-like passageway, in which they crawled through. The scent of the passage was full of mildew and decay, not too much better than the stench rolling off of Orsley._

"_Hey, yah've got a knack for being silent, kitty," the old thief commented after a while of creeping through the cave in silence. Rahkei stayed quiet. Shrugging, Orsley continued. "I think that yah could find some good coin with the Cyrodiil Thieves' Guild."_

"_I'm not sure if I want to steal anything," Rahkei said softly._

_The man laughed, hacking. "Sometimes yah ain't got a choice when you have to keep yerself alive."_

_Rahkei pondered uneasily over that._

_A faint light revealed the end of a tunnel. The cub's heartbeat quickened. Orsley obviously had some of the excitement too as he quickened his crab-like pace and scampered out of the tunnel within minutes._

_Light. Blinding light. When Rahkei managed to adjust his vision to the daylight, he observed that it was about midday. He and Orsley were standing on a grassy slope dotted with the small bursts of color of wildflowers. To the west rose the walls of Cheydinhal. The cub faced the city._

"_Yah want to get back in there, cat-kitty?" Orsley's distinctive voice cut through the soft noise of summer. _

_Rahkei turned to him and nodded. "I left something in there," he said, thinking of his S'karthast armor and sword. "I want to get it back before someone steals it…"_

_Orsley was watching him with a concerned look, then he sighed. "Okay, I'll help yah find it. It's likely that it's gone by now though." At the cub's defeated look, he quickly added, "But I'll help yah even then! Come on." _

_They reentered Cheydinal nonchalantly as if they hadn't just escaped from the city's jail._

"_Yah see, that's the key," Orsley noted as they strolled passed the east gate's guards. "Act completely normal and give no reason for people to be suspicious of yah. Even me! Sure, I look pretty odd, but people just think I'm a drunk beggar or something of the sorts." Rahkei kept this in mind._

"_So, where's this grandpa's house of yers?" the old thief asked._

"_Over here." Rahkei led him to a two-story, Tudor-styled home. _

_Orsley whistled and stood back, looking at the house, as the Khajiit cub ran up to the front door. "This is yer old man's place? Never knew a cat lived here."_

_Rahkei urgently sifted around the entrance to the home. No armor, no sword. He checked the bushes to the side. Nothing. _

_Wait. A glimmer. He reached down and retrieved the helmet to the S'karthast armor. He hurriedly looked in that area for the additional pieces but to no avail. Orsley approached._

_Rahkei showed the lone helmet to the old thief. "The rest is gone though," he whimpered. "I really want it back." The man snatched it from his hands and stuck his nose on it, inhaling deeply. "What the-" the cub began to say._

"_Yep, smells like the Thieves' Guild. I could get the rest back fer yah. I'm still a part of it, yah know." Orsley winked. "But first, let's make sure yah could get into yer grandpa's home." He shoved the helmet back into Rahkei's arms and led him to the rear of the house._

_"Rule number one, _never_ try entering the most obvious way, especially in broad daylight." He found a small door along the side of the home that Rahkei hadn't even noticed before. "Most houses have these," Orsley explained. Taking out the same lockpick he used to break out of jail, he unlocked this door to the home._

"_Now go do whatever yah want quickly," the old thief instructed. "Grab a spare key or whatnot. Then we'll head off to the Thieves' Guild._

_Rahkei bolted inside. He half-expected to see his Grandpah lounging on the sofa, snoring lazily, and his sister grumpily preparing a meal and cleaning up after the two males. Of course he saw neither of them. Fighting back the urge to lie down on the floor and curl up, he made his way to his bedroom. There, he set down the helmet. After leaving his room, he entered his grandfather's, sifting around for a spare key to the house. He found one in a small, wooden chest hidden beneath the bed. _

"_Done?" Orsley asked as the Khajiit cub reemerged. He nodded and locked the door behind him. The set off and returned to strolling the cobble roads casually. "Lucky for you," the thief said, "there's a small meeting place for the Guild here in Cheydinhal. The headquarters are in hidden the Imperial City, a few leagues from here. Now, yer belongings shouldn't be too far away, given they were_ just_ stolen." They stopped before a building that looked like Rahkei's grandfather's home, only a bit larger. A tall Dunmer woman was standing outside of it._

"_What do you want, Orsley?" she said in an exasperated manner._

"_Something was stolen from me and I want it back," the old man sneered. "Someone in the Guild was foolish enough to take something from a fellow member! Tsk tsk. This'll have to go to the Gray Fox."_

"_And what could _you_ possibly have that's worth stealing?" the Mer said._

"_Nun'ya business. Lemme inside. Oh, and the cat-kitty too. He's my new pet." Rahkei was about to object to that when Orsley tugged hard on one of his braids. "Plus, I have seniority, Madame Morya."_

_Morya snorted but let the old man and Khajiit cub enter the building._

_Inside was completely dark, save for a lone candle sitting upon some sort of mantel. Rahkei was able to see more than Orsley. He spotted a figure seated upon a chair across the room. The old thief shuffled towards the figure and jumped when it spoke._

"_Aren't you getting too old for this, Orsley?" an irritably soothing voice crooned. _

"_I don't think so, Mister Gray Fox."_

"_I see." A pause. The hooded head tilted towards Rahkei. "So, who is this you've brought?"_

"_My pet. Someone stole the armor and sword I had acquired fer him just within the few hours before now."_

"_Describe it."_

"_Umm…"_

_Rahkei piped up. "Dark grayish leather with metal designs all over it and a sword similar to that."_

_The Gray Fox's eyes scanned over the Khajiit cub. "How convenient. Someone _had_ brought such items to me only an hour ago."_

"_Told yah," Orsley twittered at Rahkei._

"_Although, what's to prove," the Gray Fox continued, "that the items were yours to begin with, Orsley?"_

_The old thief looked caught off-guard. "This is nonsense! They are mine and I want them back!"_

"_I did not say I wouldn't return the items to you. In fact, despite your rude outbursts, I am willing to give them to you, given all that you have provided for the Guild."_

_With that, the Gray Fox rose and disappeared into another room. Moments later, he returned, carrying the S'karthast craft in his arms. It took all of Rahkei's self-control to not reach out and snatch the items from the arms of the Thieves' Guild's official. _

_The Gray Fox passed the items to Orsley, who, in return, handed them to the little cub. Rahkei eagerly hugged the bundled armor to his chest and hooked the sword hilt over his wrist. The Gray Fox watched the young Khajiit with an amused expression. _

"_Who is he?" the Gray Fox murmured to Orsley, low enough so that the distracted cub could not hear._

_Orsley shrugged. "Met him in the poky. Unjustly sentenced. Helped get him out for this." He revealed the dark braid he had cut from Rahkei's hair. The Gray Fox appeared unsurprised. Orsley shrugged. "Really, I had just a gut feeling for 'im. I think he also may have some potential for being a thief, too."_

"_Your 'gut feelings' are usually correct," the Gray Fox mused. "Advise him, then," he decided. "Lead him in the right direction, and tell him to fence directly to me whenever I am here – which is once every two weeks, if you haven't remembered. That way, he could stay in this city."_

"_Thank you, Mister." Orsley dipped his head, then turned around and led Rahkei out of the building._

_As they exited, the old thief asked, "What is yer name, cat-kitty?"_

"_Rahkei J'varon S'karthast." The name rippled off his tongue._

"_Oh, that's quite the mouthful. Well, Rah, I'm going to help yah get settled on yer own."_

"_How?" They were heading back to the cub's grandfather's house. _

"_Yah have Thieves' Guild rights now," Orsley told him. He explained what the Gray Fox had come up with. "Do yah think yah can do it? To survive?"_

"_Surely there must be other ways to earn money," Rahkei began to protest._

"_No, lad. At least, not easily. Trust me. Yer're best off this way."_

_The Khajiit cub began unlocking the back door to the home. "What if I get caught?"_

"_I'll help yah escape again," Orsley readily answered._

"_What if I… just can't do it?"_

"_Yah can. I can see the talent in you, cat-kitty. Now, go. Go relax and think over it."_

"_Where will you be?"_

"_Around." The old thief offered a broken-toothed smile and walked away._

_Rahkei entered the building. Numbly, he found his way into his room and set down the S'karthast armor set and sword. He sat on the bed. _

Is this the right thing to do?_ he thought to himself. _Is there anything else I _could_ possibly do? Not that I know… _His thoughts returned to his deceased grandfather and sister. Instead of submitting to weeping, he thought of the Imperial guards that had committed the crime. _

"_Imperials," the cub hissed. "Imperial guards. I HATE THEM!" He screeched towards whatever gods were listening._

They will be my first victims.

_xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx_

_As Orsley walked away from the house, he had a conversation with himself._

"_I wonder what has happened to his family. It's not my business to worry about though. Or should I pry the information from 'im? No. If he wants me to know, he'll tell me." A pause. "I think he'll do quite fine on his own. I'll help and train 'im if the need comes, though. Yeah, the cat-kitty will do fine. He'll do fine…"_

_xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx_

In my sleep, I murmured, "Cat-kitty…" and turned on my other side, breathing at a faster pace than that of which I had fallen asleep several hours earlier.


	22. Revenge Served on a Silver Platter

**This one is in Vilkas' point-of-view for a change of perspective. :)**

Chapter 22 – Revenge Served on a Silver Platter

_~ Vilkas ~_

I roused from my bed shortly before dawn. I tousled my hair and pulled out any knots, fingers brushing against the rings in my right earlobe. I let my fingers linger there for a moment, then finished getting ready, pulling on my heavy armor and strapping my greatsword across my back. I left my room and stood in the main hallway, angling my hearing towards J'vairi's room. Soft breathing came from it. I strode across the hall and entered her room. Quietly, I closed the door behind me.

She looked so innocent when she slept. Long, dark hair spilled out over her pillow and large, silver eyes closed. She was curled up in the fetal position, limbs bunched up together. She was wearing a fitted nightshirt and loose pants. Her enchanted Skyforge blade, Icazstärn, leaned against the wall beside the head of the bed. On the nightstand rested a small soul gem, glowing faintly. Her lips were now moving faintly as if she was saying something in her sleep.

I walked up to the bed, trying to not have my armor clank – which was difficult in steel-plated heavy armor – and sat at the end of the mattress, feeling it sink under the weight. Vai opened her eyes the second I sat down but fluttered them closed again, obviously hoping I didn't see that she was awake.

I laughed softly and removed my gauntlets and, carefully, my greatsword and placed them on the floor. After doing that, I twisted my torso to face her. Planting a hand on the bed on the far side of her, I leaned over her slightly. I tickled her nose with my free hand.

She wrinkled her nose and opened her eyes again. Round, silver and gray, flecked with black, especially around the outer rim. Eyes like I've never seen before and extremely remarkable.

I leaned further and planted a kiss on her soft lips. My hair hung down and brushed her heart-shaped face. "Good morning," I murmured.

"Don't crush me with all of that armor," she replied, words spoken against my mouth.

"Ha, then you come up with me." With that, I carefully slipped my arms beneath her and lifted her light body up into a sitting position. Her legs were drawn up beneath her so she was a bit higher than me. She folded her arms around my neck and leaned her face against my hair.

"Maybe I should install a lock on my door," she said. "Because, as of now, people seem to come and go as they please."

"I'm welcome, though, right?" I asked naively, leaning my head to hers.

I felt her smile into my hair. "No."

"Liar," I accused.

"Maybe." She moved to sit behind me and began running her fingers through my hair. I had the urge to simply take off my armor and stay here with her all day.

"Vai, we should go ahead and take off now, don't you think?" I suggested reluctantly.

She ran her fingers along my jaw. "I suppose." She then dropped her hands, allowing me to stand up again.

"I'll leave so you can dress. I'll be right out here in the hall." She nodded and I left her room, not before grabbing my gauntlets and sword from the floor and securing them again. I moved into the main hallway of the living quarters and leaned up against the wall beside one of the long tables. I grabbed a sweetroll and began eating it.

The other Companions were beginning to rise for the day. Kodlak was the first to walk by. I dipped my head in acknowledgement.

"Today's going to be a successful day, eh?" he said grimly, stopping.

I nodded. "Indeed. We'll finish the Silver Hand for good this time," I replied, wholeheartedly meaning it.

The Harbinger placed a hand on my shoulder. "Just… don't take on more than you could handle, lad." He sighed. "I have faith that you'll keep your head clear. But your brother…" He trailed off.

"I know. Aela will keep him in check, though," I assured. I _did_ feel confidence in the Nord woman's ability to do so.

Kodlak grunted in agreement. Farkas emerged from his room, and soon after Aela and J'vairi followed. Athis left his quarters further down the hall, closer to the staircase. The Dunmer allowed the Harbinger to walk past him and enter the ground floor first. I held back as Farkas, Aela, and Athis followed Kodlak. Farkas was practically bristling with anticipation.

Vai stopped beside me. She looked up at me. I offered a smile. She had applied her warpaint, a dark purplish-blue color that matches her armor and in the design of three vertical streaks: one streak above her left eye and the other two trailing below it. Her armor fit perfectly to her body, the light material closing around every curve. She had Icazstärn attached to her left hip for easy withdrawing when using her right hand. I offered her the rest of my sweetroll and she finished up the rest of it.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Of course." I trailed a hand over her shoulder as we approached the stairs.

There was yelling going on upstairs. Athis was fuming, his red, almond-shaped eyes opened wide. He was glaring at Torvar. I noticed that Farkas and Aela had already left.

"How long have you been drinking this morning?" Athis demanded. "Wait, no, how _much_, I should ask!" A grinning Torvar sat at the dining table.

"Just the morning mead!" Torvar sang. "Mead for a marvelous Morndas morning!"

"It's Sundas, idiot," the Dunmer corrected angrily. "How are you supposed to help me while drunk?!"

Torvar barked laughter. "My dear Mer!" he crooned. "Drinking enhances my performance!"

"Performance in _what?!_" Athis shrieked. "No, actually, don't tell me!"

"The two of you, _shut up!_" Skjor snarled from standing beside the front door. He had just finished strapping on his swords to his hips. "Just hurry up and get started on your assignment!" With that, he and Kodlak exited the building.

Vai was watching me when I turned to look at her. She had an amused expression on her face, then, shaking her head, she made her way out of Jorrvaskr. I followed suit, glancing back at Torvar and Athis.

"They make a great team," Vai commented as we made our way out of Whiterun.

"Ha, indeed." I rolled my shoulders. "Hmmph, I'm ready for some battle now."

"We need to get there first, though!"

_I know that_, I was about to say but stopped myself because I knew she was just joking.

I knew how to get to the first Silver Hand nest in the Rift. Treva's Watch was closest to Whiterun, so that would be our first stop. I led the way. As we left Riften, I noticed the temporary absence of the Khajiit traders. I thought about Vai's meetings with Kharjo. The scratching, the earring, the dance… Those were all of her ways to court me? I found myself smiling.

Several inches of snow had built up on the ground now. Vai managed to set off at a steady trot, skimming over the icy snow. I sunk right into the cold stuff but plowed on. Even though travel wasn't as easy as it is without any snow, we made conversation along the way to the Rift.

"I don't believe I've asked," I started, "but what is your age?"

"Twenty-six season-cycles. No. Wait." Her brow furrowed in concentration. "Twenty-seven now."

_Seems about accurate. _"Your birthing day passed recently?" I asked.

"The ninth of last month, Sun's Dusk."

"And we didn't celebrate!" I exclaimed.

She shrugged. "Honestly, I forgot about it."

"So, you were born between the seasons of the Warrior and the Thief," he concluded. The birthsign of the Warrior constellation was at the end of summer and beginning of autumn, usually in Last Seed. The Thief's season was that of cold, most born with that sign in Evening Star, the current month.

"I suppose…"

"It makes sense."

She looked startled. "What? That I'm half-thief?" Her tone darkened. "Is this another Khajiit racial slash?" she demanded.

_No, I didn't mean that!_ "Of course not! You know I wouldn't talk like that." _Now, that is, _I added to myself. "Plus, the thief class doesn't necessarily mean that you steal. For example, you could have exceptional skill in sneaking, fighting with one-handed weapons and archery, and acrobatics." _She should see how she could practically _fly _in battle. No full-blooded Nord warrior could move like _that_._ "You're very silent and acrobatic, and you prefer a single-handed sword. Those skills you use in a warrior's way, though. You're as fierce and strong as any other Companion. You see? Birthsigns are usually accurate."

She huffed but seemed calmed down. "So I'm assuming you were born in Last Seed?" she inquired.

"Close. The month after. Heart Fire. The eighteenth."

She nodded. "How old are you now?"

"Thirty-four."

"Really?"

I looked at her. I could tell that she didn't expect that number. "Why? Is that too old? If you'd like to know, Skjor is in his-"

"No, no. It's fine." She smiled at me.

_Seven years isn't too large of an age difference._ "Good." I returned the smile.

Treva's Watch was several leagues away. We approached it several bells before midday. Vai quickly unsheathed Icazstärn and dropped to a crouch, hugging the sides of some large boulders.

_I guess I'll be the juggernaut, _I thought, knowing there's no way I could sneak in heavy armor _and_ through snow. I glanced at Vai and she nodded for me to go ahead. I loosened the sword from my back. My pace quickened to a gaping lope as I took wide steps, working through the snow. I found the break in the fort's main wall that marks the main entrance to the inner building. At spotting me, several Silver Hands were shouting frantically and others atop the wall were readying bows.

"For Ria and Njada!" Growling, I rushed into the Silver Hand on the ground, swinging my greatsword around. It sliced satisfyingly through hide armor and flesh. Once or twice I had to counter a silver blade or mace, which my Skyforge sword battered away. The Silver Hand fell easily.

As I entered through the outer wall, Vai was blasting flames at the out-of-reach archers. Soon she met up with me and we were both hacking down Silver Hand mercenaries. She nimbly ran up some rickety stairs and finished off any archers that didn't fall to her previous fire. When the outside was clear, we went into the main structure of the fort.

It was warmer in here, and, to my relief, no snow littered the floor.

_Charge?_ I mouthed to my companion.

She grinned, revealing sharply pointed incisors. I momentarily thought of when she pierced the hole for my second ring and felt a shiver of excitement wrack through my body.

Vai took off before me, releasing a shrieking warcry. I pursued. The hall opened up to a dining room of sorts, where half a dozen Silver Hand were seated. The half-Nord caught them by surprise as she rushed in and began swinging Icazstärn while activating her flame spell. Some fell by the mortal wounds caused by the sword in addition to its icy storm enchantment. Others were simultaneously clawed at and singed by her left hand, usually targeted by the face.

While she was busy with that, I pounded further into the fort. The next room was similar to the first, and I hacked down the Silver Hand there. Vai caught up and we continued onto the next room. By this time, the remaining Silver Hand were ready – although all that were left were the fort's leader and a handful of regular mercenaries.

I took on the leader. He was using a silver claymore and his build matched my own. We parried with each other, blades clashing. I backed off when I realized I wasn't gaining any advantage this way. I got a bit closer, enough to tempt him. He swung his blade heavily down in a swinging vertical arc, aiming for the helm of my head. At the last second, I ducked away. His sword struck the stone floor with a shocking force strong enough to make him release the blade. Without any hesitation, I launched myself at him and drove the point of my sword through his throat.

I turned around to see J'vairi finished with her Silver Hand. Her face was blood-splattered. Then, I noticed that mine was, too, the warm substance sticky on my skin. She offered me an Oblivion-sent smile then began looting the room.

I watched her for several moments, studying her. She returned to me, grinning. "What have you found?" I asked.

Vai presented a wicked-looking, red and black blade. "A Daedric dagger. Rare and powerful. Look! It even came with its own scabbard." She began attaching it to her left hip.

"Going to abandon the flame-claw technique?" I inquired, raising a brow.

"Claw, yes. It isn't as effective anymore. Flame, no. I'll show you later. Let's go tackle the other fort now!"

Her adrenaline was contagious, as I felt just as energized to take down the next fort, Faldar's Tooth, slightly further east.

"I want to use the beast blood this time," she declared as the second Silver Hand nest came into view.

I looked at her. "If you want…" I personally have been trying to avoid my own beast blood. "You can hide your belongings in that little crevice over there," I suggested, pointing to a small fissure between a few large rock outcroppings. She complied and began slipping her blades in there. She then had me turn around as she removed her armor. I heard a sound like a combination of a torrent of wind and bestial growling, and when I faced her again, a large, lithe wildcat was standing in her place. She was smaller and skinnier than one of Skyrim's native sabre cats but had just as deadly claws and fangs.

_I'm ready_, Vai's voice echoed through my head. Together, we began running towards Faldar's Tooth. As a cat, she had an even greater advantage over me with treading over the snow. With a huff, I watched her pounce on a waiting Silver Hand and tear out his or her throat. She tackled the next one, raking claws through the poor soul's flesh and tearing off an entire arm. I helped her when I approached, hacking away at the remaining Silver Hand. She was already taking down the archers at this fort. Without waiting to see if she was following, I went inside the fort.

This one was very similar to Treva's Watch. As I was clearing out the first room, Vai's form bolted through, bounding towards the next room. I heard frantic yells and feral snarls, followed by the sound of metal on stone and ripping flesh. We met up together again at the last room. There seemed to be two leaders this time. J'vairi was finishing off one of them, deftly avoiding his silver blade. Two regular Silver Hand stalled me from reaching the other leader.

I took down one and was working on the second as I saw the werecat launch herself through the air and towards the other leader. As if time had slowed, I saw the leader raise his silver longsword, the tip driving deep into Vai's left thigh as she sailed over him with too high of a leap. She released a bloodcurdling wail and fell roughly to the floor, dragging the sword with her and making the Silver Hand drop the weapon. With a cry, I dispatched the current Silver Hand and sliced viciously at the leader. Occupied with Vai, he didn't see me coming.

The room should've been silent with the Silver Hand deaths, but now the area was filled with Vai's cries. She managed to tear the sword from her leg, but the wound was bleeding profusely. I quickly rummaged through my traveling pack and conjured a health potion. Grabbing her jaw, I pried it open to pour the magic red liquid through. She tried biting my hands in the process. I swiftly swept her into my arms and made my way out of the fort. She kept on squirming and her blood splattered against me. I locked my arms tightly around her, suppressing her resisting movements.

I treaded through the snow and the fallen bodies back to the fissure that Vai had placed her belongings. As I crouched to take them out, her body began writhing against me, and, within moments, she was in her human form. She seemed unconscious.

I carefully set her down on the snow and pulled her belongings from the crack in the rocks. I found an undershirt to use as linen for her wound. Stiffly ignoring her bare state, I grabbed some snow and washed out the wound the best I could for a moment. It was several inches long and at least two deep along the inside of her lower left thigh, closer to the knee. I then wrapped the undershirt tightly around the wound. I wiped off any blood from my hands into the snow and located her cloak, which I enfolded around her body. Strapping her blades to my hips and placing the rest of her armor atop of her (it was light enough where it shouldn't hurt her at all), I gathered her into my arms again.

The sun was setting behind me – had all of that time really passed? – as I pushed through the snow towards the city of Riften. _The priests and priestesses of Mara should have some restoration spells to heal her,_ I thought. _Hopefully before the silver settles too much into her blood_. She whimpered at every heavy step that tossed her into my armored body. I set my mouth in a firm line.

The sun had set by the time I reached the city's gates.

"Halt right there!" a guard ordered, standing in front of the north gate.

"What!" I barked, exasperated. I needed to get Vai some help _now_.

"There's a toll. Of, let's say, 200 gold coins," the guard slurred.

Oh, _really?_ I walked up to the guard, glaring. "We both know that there is no '_toll,_'" I snarled. "Just… _Damnit_, open the gate! Can't you see we need help?"

The guard glanced down at J'vairi in my arms. She released a cry as her wounded leg spasmed. "Riften is in a recession. We need gol-"

"SHUT UP OR I'LL BASH IN YOUR SKULL UNTIL YOUR OBLIVION-SENT ANCESTORS FEEL IT," I screamed. "OPEN THE DAMNED _GATE!_"

He _finally_ obeyed and scurried to open the gate. I shoved past him and shouldered my way into Riften.

I've only been to the city twice before, but I knew where the Temple of Mara resided. I kept to the left and trotted over the wooden planks that made up most of the fishing city's roads. I took a left at an opening within cobblestone walls and climbed the stairs to the Temple.

I entered hurriedly. Redguard priest began greeting me but abruptly stopped himself when he noticed Vai.

"Come over here," he instructed with an air of authority. I followed him as he went inside a small room behind the main altar room. A Dunmeri priestess had followed us and was now quickly arranging some cloth on a bed in the room. "Put her down here," the Redguard ordered. I set Vai down upon the bed and removed the armor I had carried on her. "What ails her?"

I quickly explained about the deep weapon wound and that she was fatally allergic to silver. It wasn't lying – it was still completely the truth, only lacking a minor detail. He approved when I mentioned I gave her a health potion and cleansed the wound with the available snow.

"Dinya, make a poultice," the Redguard ordered the priestess.

"Yes, Maramal." The Dunmer woman slipped out of the room.

Maramal reached out to observe the wound when Vai shrieked. "Get away!" she cried. Her pupils were dilated, filling her silver-gray eyes with deep black. She seemed to have trouble focusing her vision.

"Hm," the priest sniffed. "Are _you_ allowed near her?"

"Yes," I automatically answered, though not completely sure of how J'vairi would act.

Dinya returned with a small mortar filled with some sort of herby pulp. "You'll have to apply it," Maramal said. The priestess handed the poultice to me.

I dropped to my knees beside the bed. I pulled aside the cloak to reveal the wound, carefully keeping the folds of cloth covering the rest of her body. I gently pushed her legs apart in order to begin unwrapping the makeshift bandage I had applied.

"Retrieve new linen," the priest ordered the Dunmer. She left again.

I watched Vai's face as I revealed the wound. Her eyes were still dilated, but they appeared to focus on me. At that moment, her entire body seemed to relax. I smiled faintly and brought my attention to the wound again. It had stopped bleeding, although the makeshift wrapping was soaked with blood.

"Good, that's a good girl," I murmured as I scooped some of the poultice onto my fingers and smeared the substance into the wound. I kept on cooing nonsense, partially to calm her down and partially to calm _myself_ down.

"Make sure you get it in there deep," Maramal commented. I nodded to show that I heard him as I continued.

Dinya had entered without my notice and handed me fresh linen. After I used up all of the poultice, I wrapped up Vai's leg for a second time. Immediately I could see that she was feeling better. Her breathing softened to one of sleep. Exhausted, I grabbed one of her hands in mine and leaned my head to the mattress. I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Come on," the Redguard priest said. "Let her sleep." I stared at him definitely, then, he pointed out more softly, "You need to get cleaned up."

Reluctantly, I let go of Vai's hand and left the room. Maramal advised that I'd wash up at a basin in the temple in the back room opposite of the one J'vairi was in. I did so, along with removing my armor so that I had only my light, casual tunic and trousers on.

When I returned, I found Maramal and Dinya at the altar, touching the statue of Mara.

I found my voice again. "Thank you."

"Thank Mara," Maramal corrected. "Through her love we were able to help you."

_It was still _you, _though, _I thought defiantly. _Nonetheless…_ "Thank you, Mara, divine of love and compassion."

"And mortal understanding," Dinya corrected.

I suppressed a sigh and turned to make my way back to Vai. Then I remembered.

"Maramal," I said. The Redguard looked at me patiently. "I – _we _– did have the intention of coming here to… arrange a marriage."

The priest's eyes widened slightly. "Of course, lad." He glanced towards where Vai would be beyond the wall. "But, when do you want it?"

I thought for a moment. "Two weeks from now." _Yes, she is strong. Even if she isn't completely healed by then, she'll fight her way through it to make the wedding happen._

"The nineteenth of Evening Star?"

"Yes."

"Very close to the New Life holiday," he commented.

Dinya spoke up, smiling. "What better gift to give each other, though?"

No one could argue with that.

I returned to the bedside next to Vai. I pulled up one of the chairs in the room and sat down close enough so I could hold her hand.

"Here that, Vai? Two weeks. Is that enough time? I know it is. You'll be ready by then, won't you?" I closed my eyes momentarily and took a deep breath. "Don't scare me again like that." My voice dropped to a murmur.

She opened her eyes halfway and replied in the faintest voice, "I won't."


	23. Sensitive

**KrystylSky and Baby Fawn, I love reading your reviews! Thanks so much for keeping up with this story. :)**

**I hope that everyone is having a wonderful holiday break; I am! It's around the time for New Life festivals in Tamriel. :D **

**OH, MY BEST FRIEND ALSO POINTED OUT THAT THE METALS I HAVE FOR THE S'KARTHAST ARMOR ARE THOSE EXACTLY FOR SOME NEW NORD ARMOR IN THE DRAGONBORN DLC. That is a freaky, awesome coincidence. O.o**

**Anyway, enjoy, my shield-brothers and shield-sisters!**

Chapter 23 – Sensitive

I remember Vilkas staying beside me, talking to me, as I fell in a sleep-like state. I dreamt of sabre cats and wildcats, bandits and Silver Hand. A flash of silver, a torrent of blood. I was vaguely aware of Vilkas' warm hand gripping mine tightly. The hand had gradually gone slack.

I awoke to find Vilkas slumped over in a chair facing me. He was leaning forward and hugging onto one of my arms. I shifted my body and yelped as I felt a twinge of pain in my left thigh. I looked down at the area as Vilkas got up with a start. I pulled my arm from his hold and reached to touch the bandaged wound.

"Hey, it's only a third of a day old," Vilkas said tiredly. He reached over and began pulling my hand away from the wound. "Leave it alone and let it heal a bit."

_I'm not a cub,_ I was about to argue. But then I realized that Vilkas must've taken me out of the fort and fix up my wound. Wait... the sword was silver. _Silver!_

"It's cleansed," the Nord man quickly said as I realized that I had said the word aloud. "Dinya made a poultice that negated any of the silver's affects, apparently." He yawned.

I felt a sudden ache. Not from the pain of my wound, but rather an ache to reach out for Vilkas. "Come here," I ordered.

His eyes met mine. The day's warpaint around them was smudged and he looked exhausted. Regardless, he smiled faintly.

Ignoring any pain that came with moving the leg, I made myself sit up. My head started to swarm and I faintly noticed that all I had on was my cloak wrapped around me and clasped about my shoulders.

"Maramal says that you need more sleep," Vilkas said with a tinge of worry. "You should lie back down."

"Come here," I almost growled. He sighed and sat down beside me, legs apart and bent over the edge.

"You really should..." He trailed off, watching me. I hastily made my way into his lap.

He helped me carefully stretch out my wounded leg over his, keeping my cloak wrapped around me. I tucked my other leg to myself and leaned my head between his chest and left arm. I felt him wrap that arm around my shoulders.

"Where are we?" I asked lazily.

"The Temple of Mara." Vilkas dipped his head and kissed the top of mine. "The priest and priestess here helped me – well, you."

"Oh, good." I snuggled up to his warm body.

He _mhmm_'d in agreement. "Oh, and our wedding is scheduled in two weeks. Sundas the nineteenth."

"That sounds wonderful," I said, not entirely registering the information. I nuzzled my head to his chest.

He laughed and hugged me to him. "It is, it is." His lips trailed my ear and his hair tickled my face. "Now get some more sleep, Vai."

"You too," I murmured, yawning.

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

I woke up alone. I sat up slowly, my leg stiff, and immediately realized that I was now in unfamiliar, light clothes. My cloak was gone, and I felt cold. I looked around the small room I was in. At the foot of the bed sat all of my belongings – except my cloak.

A Redguard man suddenly appeared before the doorway. He noticed me then called out, "Vilkas, J'vairi's up." A couple sets of footsteps walking around. The Redguard moved out of the way so a Nord could step through.

"Hey," I said simply.

"Hey to you too." Vilkas walked towards me and sat beside me, wrapping an arm around my waist. I relished the warmth offered.

"Where's my cloak?" I asked, snaking an arm around his back too.

"Soaking. We're trying to see if we could get the blood out of it."

_Oh, Oblivion's gates_. "I hope it's not ruined…"

Vilkas glanced at me then released a short laugh. "Out of all that has happened, you're worried about a cloak?"

"Yes. I quite liked it," I answered seriously.

He rubbed my side. "Well, if it is not in the best quality, we could always get you a new one," he assured.

"Mhmm." I snuggled closer to him.

The Redguard returned, this time with a Dunmeri woman. Vilkas and I parted slightly.

"How's the wound?" the dark-skinned man asked.

_Oh, I did get hurt, didn't I? _I pulled back the pants I was wearing to look at my bandaged thigh. The cloth was only faintly red directly over the wound. I poked the area with my fingers. I winced when I pressed a little to hard, but other than that, it felt way better than it should've. The whole leg felt slightly sore and stiff, and my head felt clear. No effect from the silver. I recounted this to the Redguard.

"That's probably because the wound was young enough to dress with the poultice Dinya made," he said at my last statement. "There are a handful of Skyrim citizens who are… allergic… to silver." His tone hinted at some hidden knowledge. I had the urge to glance at Vilkas, to see his expression. But I didn't.

"It's an unfortunate allergy too," I said. "Silver is such a beautiful metal." And I meant it. I found myself toying with the rings in my left ear.

The Redguard raised a brow. "I assume that's a different metal then. Steel?" I nodded to confirm. After an awkward pause in conversation, the man said, "Oh, pardon me! I forgot to introduce my wife and myself." He indicated the Dunmer. "This is Dinya, priestess of our loving Divine Mara, and I am Maramal, priest of Mara."

"Mara…" I repeated. "Oh! Marriage!" Immediately after I said that, I thought, _Well, I must sound stupid. _I also faintly remembered Vilkas telling me that he's already talked about it.

Maramal nodded. "Your betrothed has already confirmed with us. The second Sundas from now."

I felt my lips curling into a smile. The priest noticed it and smiled in return. "It's wonderful to see loving couples in these hard times."

_Hard times?_ _Does he mean the dragons and the civil war? Now that I think of it, I haven't seen much of either issue…_

The priest and priestess of Mara provided us a small breakfast before we left. Vilkas and I thanked them for everything.

I had to hobble around the temple, clinging to Vilkas' arm as I used my right leg. "Walking may be a little difficult for you at this time," Maramal said as we made way for the door. "You'll want to keep as much pressure off that leg as possible for now, too." I acknowledged that I understood. "And here is your cloak." He handed a bundle of material to me. I quickly unfolded it. There wasn't a stain at all. "We managed to get all of the blood out." I thanked him again, truly grateful for all Maramal and Dinya have done. I draped the cloak about my shoulders and fastened the metal clasp. We went through the temple's door.

Vilkas had our armor in a large sack in his arms. His sword was atop of it, and my weapons were strapped to his hips. "Get on my back," he ordered. He crouched down.

Already holding onto him with one arm, I put my other hand on his other shoulder and stood behind him. I jumped onto his back, and I hooked my right leg – the good one – around his waist. I managed the same with my other leg, although I couldn't keep as tight of a grip. I shivered as I felt a cold winter breeze go through my cloak. I wrapped my arms around Vilkas' neck and hugged myself to his back. He stood up. And I didn't fall. Yay, that's a good sign.

"Holding on tightly enough?" Maramal asked. I said yes. Vilkas moved the armor sack and sword beneath one arm and carefully grasped my left leg with his other.

"Are you sure you're well enough to do this?" the Dunmer asked, looking worried.

"She's definitely grasping firmly enough," Vilkas chimed in good-naturedly.

And so we set off, throwing in more thanks to the priest and priestess. I leaned my head over Vilkas' shoulder as he descended down the stairs. He began heading for the main gate. I poked his chest.

He glanced at me. "What?"

"I want to see the city before we go." And I didn't care about how I appeared to others. I felt him shrug, then he turned around.

"Riften was, obviously, built over the water for the most part. It's a big fishing city. And known for the infamous Thieves' Guild," Vilkas narrated as he walked over a wooden bridge.

_Thieves' Guild_… I immediately thought of the second dream I had of little Rahkei, my… father. He had been recruited into the Cyrodiil Thieves' Guild. How similar were that one and Skyrim's?

"I honestly don't care for this city," the Nord I was riding continued. "Too much water. Way too much water." I looked sideways at him and saw him wrinkle his nose. "Everything smells damp and like mildew. And fish." I agreed. I didn't like the smell, and I wasn't overly fond of the wooden structures and buildings; but overall, it seemed like a decent city.

We walked through a circle of vendors somewhere in the middle of the town, a nice setup for a little marketplace. A Dunmeri woman clothes merchant, an Argonian – the lizard race always struck me as odd-looking – jeweler, a female Nord merchant, another Dunmer – a man – with some armor and weapons, and a red-haired male Nord bellowing out the effects of the potions he was selling.

The Nord man looked about Vilkas' age and had a similar body build, and his reddish hair went slightly past his shoulders. He caught my eye, then looked at who was carrying me. He almost hastily shifted his attention and continued yelling about his "miracle elixir" that can give "god-like powers." Yeah. Right. He found a couple interested buyers, though. I turned to look at Vilkas and voice my skepticism about the "elixir" when I noticed my Nord's narrowed eyes.

"Brynjolf," he said in a low voice.

"What?"

His arm tightened on my leg. "Brynjolf. That man. Some sort of leader in the Thieves' Guild." His voice dropped even more. "He tried recruiting Aela once when we visited here. She went as far as to see what he was up to, then threatened to take down the Guild. Well, instead of the Guild being at stake, the threat was turned around to Aela. Farkas and I had to pry her out of their hands." He clenched his teeth. "Dealing with thieves is nasty business."

"I take it he remembers you," I commented.

"Oh, he better have."

Vilkas walked me around to the vendors opposite of the man Brynjolf. No one had any items of my interest. The Dunmeri man stopped us as we passed by his stand.

"You look like you need some healing," the Dunmer said to me. "…Unless you just like riding men?" he added, obviously not sure if I was actually injured.

I felt Vilkas tense, but I acted before him. "What's that supposed to mean?!" I retorted heatedly, planting my hands on Vilkas' shoulders and glaring at the Mer. "I, in fact, do have a weak leg at the moment. _And_, this is my betrothed." A biting cold wind whistled through the marketplace.

The Dunmeri man shivered, partially because of my response, I hoped. "I apologize. Maybe you should see if Brynjolf has a remedy for you?"

At this point, Vilkas had walked away from the Dunmer and I didn't bother looking back. We were about to exit the market circle when a soothing, clear and deep voice halted us.

"Vilkas." It was the Nord, Brynjolf.

Vilkas' response was brief. "Thief."

Brynjolf ignored him and looked up at me and offered a teasing smile. "Looks like you could use one of my Falmer Blood Elixirs, little lass."

The way he addressed me immediately made me feel uncomfortable. I hugged my arms around Vilkas' neck again and carefully met the Nord's blue gaze.

"Back off, thief." Vilkas' voice sounded of danger.

An irritating, teasing grin. "She looks like she'd be better off in the Guild than the other lass. Aela, wasn't it?"

"Neither of them would settle as low as to live off of stealing." Vilkas began walking away.

"You'd be surprised!" Brynjolf called after us. I twisted my head to look at the red-haired Nord. He winked at me and held up one of his "elixirs." "You'd be surprised…"

Vilkas led us out of Riften instantly after that. The guard at the gate seemed to watch us uneasily. He set off at a trot, not too steady because of the snow. He was keeping directly to the roads.

"You wouldn't do that, right?" he asked quietly after traveling about a bell with neither of us speaking. I had almost fallen asleep, despite the bumpy ride and stiffening of my limbs.

"Hmm?"

"You wouldn't settle for stealing." He sounded concerned.

I shifted so I had a better hold on him. "What? Of course not. Are you seriously considering what that Nord said?" At his silence, I continued. "Vilkas, you said Aela only joined to try to take down the Guild. Has a Companion ever left to really join the thieves?"

"No… It's just, Brynjolf has a way of talking…"

"So what? Vilkas, apparently he's a sweet-talker, but, by Akatosh, you don't need to worry."

"Now that you bring the chief Divine into it…" Vilkas said, to my relief, with a sense of humor.

I placed my hands over his chest. "It's fine."

By the time we had returned to Whiterun's gates, it was dusk and I had fallen asleep, keeping a vice grip on the Nord. I woke up as a guard helped Vilkas open the large gate. He walked through.

"I hope that no one else had any trouble with their tasks," I pondered, also letting Vilkas know that I was awake again. He grunted in agreement.

At Jorrvaskr's steps, I told Vilkas that I would like to enter on my own two legs. He reluctantly helped me slide off his back and we entered the Companions' headquarters, me holding onto Vilkas' arm.

"There they are!" a familiar, drunken voice exclaimed. The main room was filled with seemingly every Companion. Without warning, I was enveloped in a crushing hug and wolf-scent wreathed around me. I yelped when a knee pressed roughly against my wounded thigh.

"Farkas, get off of her!" I heard Vilkas wrathfully order, practically growling. The twin had already retreated at my cry. Vilkas immediately stood behind me and placed his hands on my arms. Farkas now stood several stride-lengths from me, staring at his twin.

Skjor approached us. His single good eye focused directly on me. "You two are the last. Torvar and Athis had returned earlier this afternoon and the rest of us, late last night. What happened?"

Vilkas spoke before I could. "A Silver Hand caught Vai deep in her leg. With a silver blade, of course. We found help at the Temple of Mara in Riften."

"And I'm mostly better now. No effect from the silver," I chimed in.

Skjor grunted and clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Be more careful next time." With that, he returned to a chair at the side of the room beside where Kodlak was seated.

"Temple of Mara?" Torvar echoed. "Isn't that, like, a place for love?"

Aela was here now, too. "Yes, Torvar. Couples get married there, but the priests of Mara are also skilled in restoration magic. Smart move on Vilkas' part."

Farkas had his arms folded now. "Of course it's smart," the twin stated. "Vilkas _is_ the smart one, isn't he?" His eyes sternly met his brother's. "But that wasn't the only reason for going to that temple, was it?"

Everyone had fallen silent. Vilkas' hold on my arms tightened.

"You're correct," Vilkas had said after few moments. "There I've also arranged… a marriage."

The room was in immediate uproar – positive, not angry. Aela was the first to meet my gaze, smiling sincerely. Torvar was talking excitedly, not quite sober. He asked when the ceremony will be held, and Vilkas answered calmly. The nineteenth, a day under two weeks from now. Athis actually congratulated Vilkas and me, and Kodlak and Skjor seemed slightly surprised, but pleased. Farkas was silent, staring. I met my eyes to his and shivered. Vilkas put his arms fully around me as he answered our shield-siblings' questions. I found myself unable to look away from Farkas.

_You'll have to accept it, _I tried to silently say.

I couldn't tell if his metallic eyes were exactly cold or not, but they seemed to simply reply, _We'll see_.


	24. Brothers

**Whoo, yeah, sorry for the wait. New college semester and whatnot. That writing spurt I had was definitely unusual. I hope you all had a wonderful holiday and good start for a new year. :) Reviews are extremely welcome. Oh, and a reminder for those who would like to check: I have a DeviantArt account by the same name (Numbstrike). There's a sketch I made of J'vairi for this story.**

Chapter 24 – Brothers

"I believe it's time to get up."

I immediately woke at the sound of a voice right beside me. I looked up from my to see Aela watching me.

She placed her hands on her hips. "Finally. You've slept most of the day away!"

I blinked the sleep from my eyes and focused on her. "What time is it?" I yawned.

"Mid-afternoon. Everyone decided to let you sleep in. I chose to stay around until you woke up to give you this." The Nord woman revealed a purplish potion in her hands. I gave it a skeptical look as I brought myself to a sitting position. "And before you ask," she continued, "Kodlak asked Vilkas to do a day job of wiping out easy bandits."

_Mmm, I could go for seeing Vilkas right now_…

"J'vairi, don't doze off on me. You've already had enough sleep," Aela said sternly. "Drink this." She put the potion into my hands. "It'll help your wound. Speed up the healing process and reduce any pain or something. Oh, and go ahead and get dressed. You'll be training with Athis. I have to go help someone around Whiterun I had promised earlier."

"Training?" I echoed. I twisted the cork from the small bottle's lip.

"Yes. To further strengthen that leg. By the way, how does it feel at the moment?"

I carefully stretched out my left leg. Then drew it back towards me. Stretched it out again. Only a faintly biting soreness in my thigh. I reported this to Aela. "I can't believe how fast it's healing."

"Thank the gods-"

"-and everyone who's helped me," I cut in. She gazed at me, then nodded briefly.

Aela walked to the bedroom door. Before exiting, she said, "Drink that. I have to go… so I'll see you later. Good luck training today."

_You too_, I was about to reply – then settled for a simple "bye."

xXxXxXxXx

I didn't detect any immediate effect from the potion. Unless my leg didn't feel as well before it, and I just didn't notice because of having only slept prior to now. Hmm. Regardless, my leg felt almost normal, as long as I didn't shift all of my weight to my left side.

Athis was the only Companion I saw around after dressing myself in my armor and grabbing Icazstärn and my new Daedric dagger. I found the Dunmeri man on the back deck beside the training area. He was sitting in a chair, flipping through a book and looking extremely bored. At noticing me, he flung the book aside and exclaimed, "Finally, you're up!"

"Yes, yes I am." I spun Icazstärn about my wrist, enjoying the weight of its blade in my grip. The Daedric dagger also felt satisfying in my left hand, despite its smaller size. I walked down to the training clearing. Waiting for Athis, I pressed some of my weight to my left leg. Ah. Okay, I still need to try keeping off of it too much.

I watched my breath cloud in front of me. A cold Evening Star day. The sun shone brightly through a clear sky, and though there was snow, the training area was mostly clear. I watched Athis approach me, wielding his own Skyforge sword and an iron-banded shield.

"A new blade, eh?" he commented, eyeing up the Daedric dagger.

"Yep." Feeling suddenly energized, I launched myself at him, simultaneously swinging both of my blades and cautiously keeping most of my weight on my right leg. He barely had time to lift his shield and fend off my blows. The jagged edge of the Daedric dagger hooked onto the lip of the shield.

"Oh, that's how you want to play?!" he cried out. He swiftly tugged back his shield, pulling the dagger with it and ripping the blade from my grip. It landed with a skitter several paces to Athis' side. Quickly gauging if I could retrieve it without opening an opportunity for the Dunmer to rush in, I sprinted after the dagger. I swept the hilt back into my grip and spun to face Athis – just in time to fend off his blade with my sword and dagger. I accidentally leaned too much on my left side and hissed as I felt my thigh spasm. Not wanting to give up, I ignored it and took a step closer to Athis with my right leg. We were almost face-to-face, blades sliding against each other between us.

"I'm impressed," he commented, forehead breaking out in a sweat. "Your leg doesn't seem as hurt as one would think."

"It's been healing fairly quickly," I responded. I began to felt his sword yielding to my blades.

He swiftly removed his sword from my weapons and shoved his shield forward, bashing it against me. I stumbled back, cringing as I landed hard on my left leg. Ignoring the pain, I steadied my stance again and raised my blades.

Athis actually appeared surprised. "J'vairi." The mock-battle was still going on, but he was carrying a conversation. "J'vairi," he repeated, carefully advancing upon me. "Seeing you progress as a Companion and now sparring with you…" He paused, searching for the right words. "Needless to say, I am _proud_ to call you a shield-sister. And… Vilkas is a fortunate man." There was not any jealousy in that last statement.

I looked at him with wide eyes. That seriously meant a lot, but all I managed to stumble out was a "thank you." Then we clashed again.

I managed to knick Athis' arm, a thin and shallow cut but large enough to draw some blood. Soon after that, he knocked me back with his shield again. My left leg gave away beneath me, and I fell onto my back. My sword and dagger dropped from my hands and I pulled my leg towards me. My thigh was pulsing faintly, and the whole leg felt sore. It actually seemed like a _good_ sore though.

I felt arms slip beneath my armpits and lift me up.

"Ahh, what are you doing?" I protested. Athis helped me return to a stand then he graciously let go.

I glanced at the sky. More time had passed than it seemed; the sun was already setting. Which meant more cold was settling in. Athis and I retreated inside.

Back in the mead-hall, I took in another potion to assure my leg was still healing while Athis quickly dressed the cut I delivered.

Not soon later, Torvar and Farkas entered Jorrvaskr. The drunkard clasped me on the shoulder and asked me about my leg, of which I answered was doing quite fine. Farkas took a seat at one of the dining tables without a word. Within the bell, Skjor, Kodlak, Aela, and, finally, Vilkas returned. My heartbeat quickened at seeing my Nord stride in. He smiled when he saw me and strode over to draw me into his arms.

He asked about how was today, and I recounted the day's minimal events. When attention was brought to my leg, he lightly settled a hand on my left thigh.

"It's holding up very well," I assured. "It's been healing very quickly."

He didn't look completely convinced. "Maybe you should be a bit easier on it for now, though?"

"Vilkas, it's not like I broke any bones or tore through a tendon." I looked up at him.

"It was still a large slash…"

I silenced him with a quick kiss. "I'll be fine. I promise."

Everyone quickly dressed out of his or her armor and into more comfortable, casual clothing. After we were all ready, Kodlak called for everyone to take a seat around the fire-pit. Vilkas and I took a couple chairs along one of the two shorter tables that bordered the fire. Athis decided to sit on my other side, my right. Kodlak remained standing while everyone found his or her seat.

"We've been very successful in suppressing the Silver Hand," the Harbinger announced, meeting everyone's eyes, one by one. "In slaughtering our enemy, in avenging our fallen shield-sisters, Ria and Njada. We are fortunate that the worst we've endured in this vengeance is a deep slice to the flesh, which was blessedly attended to in time." He held is gaze to mine for a few moments. "Skjor and myself scoured the last suspected lair of the Silver Hand only to find it abandoned, save a few wolfish bodies. I believe that that cult will not give us trouble for some time to come, but that does not mean to cast aside any defenses. We are warriors. We are Companions. Shield-siblings, we've successfully avenged, but do not let pride cloud your minds. Let us feast in honor of our fallen kin."

Kodlak approached a tabletop and poured himself a goblet of wine. He then held it up, presenting it to us all. "To Ysgramor! To Talos! To Akatosh! To Ria and Njada!" We repeated the action, raising our cups and calling to our ancestors, gods, and kin. A certain power filled the feasting hall of Jorrvaskr at that time, and a sense of belonging flooded through me, almost overpoweringly.

A couple bells were spent of food, drink, warm arguing and bonding. I found myself often glancing at Vilkas beside me, smiling. Across from myself was Farkas, who I noticed staring over at me upon several occasions. Beneath the table, Vilkas and I twined fingers.

The gathering lasted until midnight. Shield-siblings gradually dispatched to their respective beds for the night. Vilkas and I got up, and he began heading towards the living quarters slightly before me. As I pushed in my chair before following him, Farkas stepped in my way.

He placed his hands on my shoulders and looked me straight in the eyes. "Take a walk with me." It wasn't a question or even an invitation. It was a demand. He bit his lip awkwardly after a moment. "Please."

I glanced over Farkas' shoulder to see Vilkas' eyes turn cold and suspicious facing his brother. I returned my gaze to Farkas. I couldn't detect any malice or dark ambition in his eyes, and, oddly, I felt inclined to trust him at this moment. I gave Vilkas a faint nod. Farkas glanced back at his twin, then looked at me again. "Thank you," he said in a gruff voice. "And, you may want to grab your cloak."

Cloaks slung about our shoulders, we left Jorrvaskr. Farkas led me into the crisp, clear air that whispered through Whiterun this night. A thick crescent moon hung in the sky.

"What is it?" I asked him as we walked through the deserted streets, crunching through fallen snow. I hugged my cloak tightly around myself.

Farkas stayed silent. He seemed to think about putting an arm around my shoulders as we walked, but thought against it. Something in his posture was almost… defeated.

He stopped us before a house on the western border of the city. "What is this? Who's house is this?" I asked, confused. Without warning, Farkas grabbed a hold of a ledge on the outside of the building and heaved himself up. From that point, he managed to scale onto the roof. He peered down at me from over the edge and beckoned for me to follow. Having to put more effort into making the initial jump than he did, I managed to grasp onto that same ledge and scurry up the building. He held out an arm for me to grab and pulled me up the last bit when I did.

We sat on a flat part of the roof for several moments in almost comfortable silence. I glanced at him. His eyes reflected oddly in the faint moonlight.

"Little Vai…" he breathed. Then suddenly he pounced.

I found myself thrown onto my back with a large Nord atop of me. His long hair hung down past his face and brushed mine.

"Farkas-" I began. He then snaked his arms beneath me and flattened his body over mine. His legs were placed on either side of me, and his warm torso pressed roughly to mine. I gasped under his weight.

He placed his forehead to mine and his fierce silvery eyes danced. "Just this once," he breathed heavily. Then he dropped his full weight onto me and placed his mouth over mine. His kissed me fiercely as he wrapped his arms tightly around me and pressed his knees to my legs. Suddenly the night was not cold anymore.

A door opened. From below. Without warning, Farkas pitched to the right, tossing both of us tumbling down the roof and onto the ground behind the building. Luckily there was snow built up to soften the fall – although I was atop Farkas. His arms held me locked in place and his legs hooked around mine.

"Farkas!" I protested.

"Shh." He cocked his head, listening. I heard a confused mutter and then the closing of a door nearby.

"Farkas," I whined. I met my eyes to his, pleading.

His, previously burning, now appeared almost dull. He released all holds on me and allowed me to roll away from him. I scrambled to sit on a waist-high stone wall, several paces away from him. I wrapped my wrinkled cloak around myself and cautiously eyed up the Nord.

"I needed to do that just once." His voice was quiet, low. His dark hair clung to his face and neck. He looked at me. "And now I do not know if it was for the better or for the worse."

I stayed silent. Calculating. Ready to bolt back to Jorrvaskr, back to Vilkas, but… curious of what he had to say.

We stared at each other for some time.

"Why him?" Farkas asked, breaking the silence.

The question surprised me. I carefully selected my words. "Sometimes a person finds another person with whom she feels a strong, unexplainable… connection… to." I drew my hood up around my neck and ears. "And when that connection is realized, it's unquestionable… and unbreakable."

I thought I heard Farkas sigh. It could've also been the wind. I glanced at the moon, which was unhurriedly making its way across the nocturnal sky.

"I… see." The Nord closed his eyes briefly. I returned my gaze to watch him. He met his eyes to mine again. "Do you forgive me?"

"For what you just did tonight?"

"Yes."

I bit my lip. "Maybe."

Another sigh. "I apologize. But yet a part of me doesn't want to."

_Well, that's nice to know_… I thought sarcastically but refrained from speaking it aloud. "If you could… restrain… yourself in the future," I said cautiously, "I'll forgive you. Just… remember that _your brother_ and I are betrothed now, and soon we'll be bonded forever." He nearly seemed to flinch at that. "So, you'll be my brother in two ways: as shield-brother and brother-in-law. Please… act like it."

He was staring at the snow now, rather than my eyes. Then he rose and strode over to me. I braced myself and looked up at him.

I restrained myself from recoiling as he placed his hands on my shoulders and briefly kissed the top of my head. "I… will. I promise. And please, don't tell my brother about what had happened."

We met eyes again. I saw what I believed to be genuine regret in his gaze. And maybe some fear.

_As long as this settles it all…_ "I won't," I assured. He helped me to a stand and we began heading back to Jorrvaskr. "And if you come at me again," I said, "I – and Vilkas – have full right to come at you with whatever we have." I meant for it to sound lighthearted but realized how harsh it was.

Farkas gritted his teeth and visibly forced himself to relax. "You have full the right."

"Glad you understand."

Vilkas had been waiting the whole time. He swiftly rushed to my side and brushed off whatever snow clung to me. He kissed my head then pressed his lips to my neck. And inhaled. Deeply.

"You smell too closely of Farkas," he said in a dangerous voice, looking past me and at his brother.

My heart pounded. "We just had a… lengthy conversation." I wrapped my arms around Vilkas. "Everything should be settled now." I glanced back to see Farkas walk with sloped shoulders down to the living quarters.

"It better be," Vilkas added. He led me to the downstairs of Jorrvaskr. "Spend the night with me. Just by my side. Please."

_It better be_. "I would like that."

I hadn't realized it before, but Vilkas' bed was larger than mine. Ideal for two people. I took the side against the wall, and my Nord slipped in beside me.

_Was_ everything settled now? Would Farkas keep away now?

_Everything should be settled now._

_It better be._


End file.
